
Class_ ■«!! 

Book tlS4" 



PRESENTED BY 






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LIFE AND WORKS 



ROBERT BURNS. 



J&avttL ftutl£**. 



LIFE AND WOKKS 



EOBERT BURNS. 



n 



EDITED BY ROBERT CHAMBERS. 



IN FOUR VOLUMES. 



VOL. IV. 



NEW YORK 



HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHER; 
329 & 331 PEARL STREET, 

FRANKLIN SQUARE. 

18 5 4, 



CONTENTS. 



*** The Italic letters indicate the publication in which the several compositions 
respectively appeared : see note prefixed to the Contents of Volume I. Pieces which 
have not appeared in any previous edition of the poet's works are marked n. The 
letter o refers to the authorised edition of the Letters to Clarinda, Edinburgh, 1843. 



DUMFRIES. 

December 1791— -July 1796. — (continued.) 



A time of National Distress, July 1793 ; Burns suffers amongst 

others, ----_,- 13 

Letter to Mr Peter Hill, July. Bad times. Sad remembrances 

of old Edinburgh companions, - - - n 13 
Excursion of Burns and Syme through Galloway; Kenmure; 

Airds, ------ -14 

Epitaph on a Lap-dog, - - - - e 15 

Gatehouse — a Storm — Kirkcudbright, - - 15 
St Mary's Isle— Earl of Selkirk— Urbani, - - 16, 17 
Anecdote of Burns and a Clergyman at Airds Hill, - - 18 
Exasperated spirit of Burns at this time, - . - 19 
Letter to Miss Craik of Arbigland, Aug. Misery of Poets, - e 19 
Mr Thomson to Burns, Aug. 1, - - - e 20 
Burns to Mr Thomson, Aug. Georgium Sidus out of tune, e 21 
Sums to Mr Thomson, Aug. Phillis the Fair, - - e 21 
Mr Thomson to Burns, Aug. Robin Adair, &c, - - e 22 
Burns to Mr Thomson, Aug. Had I a Cave. Some airs com- 
mon to Scotland and Ireland, - - - e 23 
Burns to Mr Thomson, 19th Aug. By Allan's Stream I chanced 
" to rove, - - - - - - -e24 



VI CONTENTS. 



PAGl 



Burns to Mr Thomson, Aug. Whistle, and I'll come to you, my 

Lad. A down winding Nith I did wander, - - - e 25 

Favourite Walks of Burns, - 25 

Peter Pindar over-estimated by Burns, - - 27 
Burns to Mr Thomson, 28th Aug. Come, let me take thee to my 

Breast, - - - - - - - e 27 

Burns to Mr Thomson, 28th Aug. Dainty Davie, - - e 28 

Affairs at Home and in France, - - - - 29 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 1st Sept. Delighted with the 

productions of Burns's Muse. Asks twenty- three Songs, e 30 
Burns to Mr Thomson, Sept. Hey, Tuttie Taitie. Praser's 

Hautboy. Song — Bruce to his Men, &c, - - - e 30 

Circumstances of the composition of Scots, wha hae, &c, - 32 

Burns to Mr Thomson, Sept. Behold the Hour, - - e 33 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 5th Sept. Criticism on Bruce's Address, e 33 
Burns to Mr Thomson, Sept. Down the Burn, Davie. Habits in 

Song- writing. Observations on Mr Thomson's list of Tunes 

requiring Songs. Thou hast left me ever. Where are the 

Joys ? &c. Auld Lang Syne, - - - e 35 
Burns to Mr Thomson, 8th Sept. Eevised copy of Bruce's 

Address, - - - - - - - e 39 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 12th Sept. James Balfour's singing. 

Criticisms, - - - - - ■ c 10 

Burns to Mr Thomson, 15th Sept. Where are the Joys'? &c., e 41 
Burns to Mr Thomson, Sept. Deluded Swain, the Pleasure. Irish 

Airs, - - - - - - - e 43 

Library at Dumfries. Present of a Book to, by Burns. 

Anecdotes of the time of Terror, - 44 
Burns to Mr Thomson, 29th Oct. Death of Hon. Andrew 

Erskine. Thine am /, my faithful Fair. Songs by Gavin 

Turnbull, - - - - - - - e 46 

Impromptu on Mrs Riddel's Birthday, - - - 48 

Burns at Brownhill Inn — an Impromptu, - - - I 49 

Nicol and Masterton with Burns at Dumfries — Impromptus, 49 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 7th Nov. Apprehensions— Thanks, 50 

Burns to Mr Thomson, Dec. My Spouse Nancy, - - e 51 

Letter to John M'Murdo, Esq., Dec. Paying a Debt, - e 52 

Collection of traditionary Songs, - *- - - 52 

Letters enclosing Bruce's Address. To Captain . — To the 

Earl of Buchan. — To Captain Miller, Dalswinton, » 54, 55 

Mrs Walter Riddel, her Penelope-like Life, - - .55 

Note to Mrs Riddel, promising to attend a Play, - - 56 



PAGB 




56 




57 




58 


e 


58 




59 


e 


60 


e 


61 




61 


i 


62 




64 


e 


65 


A 


67 


G7 


,74 




70 


74 


,76 




76 


*e 


77 



CONTENTS. 

Anecdote of Burns from Mrs Basil Montague, 
Burns gives an Imprudent Toast — Troubles, 
A season of Intemperance. Scene at Woodley Park, 
Letter to Mrs Riddel — Penitence, - 

Alienation of the Riddels from Burns. His ' stubborn some- 
thing,' ------- 

Letters to Mrs Riddel— Satires on her by Burns, 

Monody on a Lady famed for her Caprice, - - - 

Williamson, an actor, - - - - - 

Epistle from Esopus to Maria, - 

Mr John Bushby — a quarrel with, - 

Letter to Mr Alexander Cunningham, 25th Feb. 1794. Misery. 

Consolations in religion, - 

Letter to Mr James Johnson. Balmerino's dirk, 
Pifth volume of Johnson's Museum, Songs in, by Burns, 
Lincluden Abbey — a haunt of Burns, - 

Sixth volume of Johnson's Museum, Songs in, by Burns, 
Bad effects of the Riddel quarrel and lampoons, 
Death of Riddel of Glenriddel — Sonnet on, by Burns, 
Letter to Miss . Obscure allusions to his disrepute. 

Requests return of a volume lent to Glenriddel, - e 78 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 17th April. A proposed meeting with 

Burns. The melancholy Carlini. Mr Allan has begun a 

sketch from ' The Cotter's Saturday Night,' - e 79 

Burns to Mr Thomson, May. David Allan's sketches. The 

Banks of Cree, - - - - - e 80 

David M'Culloch of Ardwell — anecdote of Burns, 81 

Recovery of Burns from the late depressing circumstances, 81 

Letter to Mr David M l Culloch, 21st June — a tour in 

Galloway, - - - - - j 82 

Letter to Mrs Dunlop, 25th June. Poor health. Stanzas on 

Liberty, ------ e 82 

Last letter to Clarinda. At a solitary inn. His favourite toast 

for a married lady, - - - - o 83 

Burns to Mr Thomson, July. Pleyel in Prance. Address to 

Miss Graham of Pintry, with a copy of Mr Thomson's 

collection, - - - - - - e 85 

Escapes of democratic sentiment — The Creed of Poverty — The 

Tree of Liberty, - - - - - I 86, 89 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 10th Aug. Does not expect to hear 

from Pleyel soon. Hopes for more Songs, - - e 90 

Burns to Mr Tliomson, 30th Aug. On the Seas and far away^ e 90 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

PAGE! 

Mr Thomson to Bums, 16th Sept. Criticisms, - - e 91 

Burns to Mr Thomson, Sept. Ca' the Yowes to the Knowes, e 92 

Burns to Mr Thomson, Sept. She says she loes me best of a'. 

Epigram on Miss Jessie Staig, - - - e 93 

Mr Thomson to Burns. Suggests dramatic writing, - e 95 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 14th Oct. Ritson's Collection of 
Scottish songs. Difficult to obtain Scottish melodies in 
their original state, - - - ■ - - e 96 

Burns to Mr Thomson, 19th Oct. A lady inspirer. Saw ye my 
Phely ? JDonocht-Head. How long and dreary is the Night ! 
Let not Woman e'er complain. The Lover's morning Salute to 
his Mistress. The Aidd Man, - - - e 97 

Story of Chloris, ------ 103 

Verses— To Chloris, ----- 104 

Letter to Mr Peter Hill, Oct. A kipper. Ramsay and 

Cameron, - - - - - *n 107 

On seeing Mrs Kemble in Yarico, - - - 108 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 27th Oct. Wishes he knew the 

inspiring fair one. Allan's sketch of Maggie Lauder, e 109 

Burns to Mr Thomson, Nov. Has begun his anecdotes. My 
Chloris, mark how Green the Groves. Lt was the Charming 
Month of May. Lassie wi' the Lint-white Locks. ' Farewell, 
thou Stream, &c. Tune of Ye Banks and Braes, how com- 
posed. Instance of the difficulty of tracing the origin of 
ancient airs, - - - - - -el 09 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 15th Nov. Thanks for Songs, - c 115 
Burns to Mr Thomson, 19th Nov. Philly and Willy. Contented 
wi' Little. Canst thou leave me thus ? &c. Description of the 
stock and horn, - - - - - e 115 

Lnsouciance of Burns, ----- 120 

Mrs Riddel. Song by her to Burns, - 121 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 28th Nov. David Allan, - 122 

Mr Perry proposes to Burns for contributions to the Morning 

Chronicle, ------ 123 

Letter to Peter Miller, Jun., Esq. Declines being a contributor 

to the Morning Chronicle, - - - h 123 

Burns's official income. His poverty has been overstated. 

His style of housekeeping at Dumfries, - - - 124 

Burns to Mr Thomson, 9th Dec. My Nannie's awa, - e 126 

Letter to Mrs Dunlop, 20th Dec. Appointed to act for the 

Supervisor. Reflections on the slipping away of Life, e 126 

Vicarious Courtship — Love-letters for a friend, - - *n 128 



CONTENTS. IX 

PAGE 

Letter to Editor of Morning Chronicle, - - - h 129 

Burns's daily life in Dumfries, - 130 

Burns to Mr Thomson, Jan. 1795. For a' that and d that, e 133 

Political Terror subsiding, - 134 

Correspondence with Captain Hamilton, Jan., - n 135 
Eeconciliation with Mrs Eiddel. A Song by her, regarding 

Burns, ------- 136 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 30th Jan. Thanks for Songs, e 137 

Burns in a Snow-storm at Ecclefechan, - - - 138 

Burns to Mr Thomson, 7th Feb. Confined in an Inn, e 138 
Burns to Mr Thomson, 9th Feb. Lassie, art thou Sleeping 

yef? - - - - - - - e 139 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 25th Feb., - - e 140 

Kirkcudbright Election, Ballads on, March 1795, - - 141 

First, - - - - - - j 141 

Second, - - - - - - j 143 

Letter to Mr Heron of Heron, ~ - - 146 

Third Ballad ; John Bushby's Lamentation, - n 147 

Song — The Dumfries Volunteers, - - - c? 151 

Toast for the 12th of April, - 152 

Neglect of Burns by the Ministry, - - - 153 
Letter to {Richard A. Oswald, Esq.'], 23d April, enclosing 

Election Ballads, - - - - n 153 
Letter to John Syme, Esq. Mr and Mrs Oswald. Will not 

court the great, - - - - - el 54 

Song — Oh, wat ye wha's in yon Town? - - - d 155 

John Syme in 1826. His Reminiscences of Burns, - 156 
Burns to Mr Thomson. Address to the Woodlarlc. On Chloris 

being ill. Their Groves 6" Sweet Myrtle. *Twas na her bonnie 

blue ee, &c, ------ c 158 

Mr Thomson to Burns. Sends a picture by Allan as a present, e 161 
Burns to Mr Thomson, 9th May. How cruel are the Parents ! 

Mark yonder Pomp of cosily Fashion, - - e 161 
Burns to Mr Thomson. May. Thanks for the picture. Remarks 

on his own portraits, - - - - e 162 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 13th May. Gratitude, - - e 163 

Mr Thomson's attempts to remunerate Burns, - 164 

Proposed removal of Burns to Leith, - - ' 164 

Burns to Mr Thomson. Forlorn, my Love, &c, - - e 165 
Burns to Mr Thomson, 3d July. Last May a braw Wooer. 

Wlty, why tell thy Lover? - - - - e 165 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 3d June. Gateslack and Dalgarnock, e 167 



X CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

Burns to Mr Thomson, 3d Aug. this is no my ain Lassie. 

Now Spring has clad the Grove in Green. Bonnie was yon 

Rosy Brier, - - - - - e 167 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 3d Aug. Admiration of his Songs, e 170 

Inscription for an Altar to Independence, - - e 171 

Burns's antipathy to the Duke of Queensberry, - ' 171 

Verses on the Destruction of the Woods near Drumlanrig, - h 172 

Bencontre of Burns with Mr Pattison of Kelvin Grove, 173 
Burns's habits. Perplexing because of the various aspects he 

presented. Mr James Gray, - - - - 174 

Death of Burns's Daughter, - - - - 175 

Broken Health of Burns in Autumn '95, - - - 176 

Visit of Professor Walker to Burns, - - 176 

Letter to Mrs Dunlop, 15th Dec. Gloomy Beflections, e 178 

Miss Pontenelle — Address for her Benefit Night, - c 179 

Ehymed Note— To Collector Mitchell, - - - e 180 
National Distress — The Sedition Bill — Displacing of Harry 

Erskine from the Deanship, - - - - 181 

The Dean of Faculty, a Ballad, - - - h m 182 

Burns irremediably destroys his health, - - 183 

Letter to Mrs Riddel, 20th Jan. 1796. Anacharsis's Travels, e 184 

Present of a Kipper to Mr Peter Hill, - - 184 

Letter to Mrs Dunlop, 31st Jan. Affliction, e 184 

Rhymed Note — To Colonel De Peyster, - 185 

Progressive Illness of Burns, - - - - 187 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 5th Feb, An awful Pause, - e 187 

Burns to Mr Thomson, Feb. Hey for a Lass wi' a Tocher, e 188 

Mr Thomson to Burns. Allan's Etchings, - - e 189 
Burns requests a return of lent money from Mr Clarke, the 

Schoolmaster, - - - - - - 189 

Letter of Mr Clarke, - - - - - 189 

Bencontre of Miss Grace Aiken with Burns, - - 190 

Burns's Salary reduced during his Illness, - - 191 
Burns to Mr Thomson, April. His wretched Health. Allan's 

Etchings, - - - - - - e 192 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 4th May. Sympathy, - e 193 
Burns to Mr Thomson. [17th May.] Jessy. Introduces John 

Lewars, - - - - - e 193 

Jessy Lewars. Songs on her, - 194 

Kirkcudbright Election of Summer '96. Song for it — Troggin, j 195 

Progressive Illness of Burns, - 198 

Versicles on Jessie Lewars, - 199 

Note to Mrs Riddel, 4th June. Cannot attend a Ball, e 199 



CONTENTS. 



Burns again addresses Mr James Clarke for Money, 26th June, 200 

Letter to Mr James Johnson, 4 th July. The Museum, 201 

Removes to Brow for Sea-bathing, - - - 201 

Burns to Mr Thomson, 4th July. Extreme Illness, - e 201 

Final Visit to Mrs Riddel, ----- 202 
Letter to Mr Cunningham, 7th July. Fears he is dying. His 

reduced Salary, ------ e 203 

Letter to Mr Gilbert Burns, 10th July. His expected Death, 204 

Last Letter to Mrs Dunlop, 12th July. Farewell, - e 204 
Harassed by a Debt. Letters craving assistance from Mr 

James Burnes and Mr George Thomson, - - 205 

Song — Fairest Maid on Devon Banks, - - - e 206 

Mr Thomson to Burns, 14th July. Sends Five Pounds, e 207 

Note to Mr James Grade, 13th July. Letter to Mrs Burns, j 208 

Anecdote of Burns, ----- 208 

Letter to Mr James Armour, 18th July. Expecting Death, j 209 

Death of Burns, ------ 209 

Public Regret. The Poet's Funeral, - - - 210 

Dr Currie's Description of Burns, - - - - 211 

Mrs Riddel's Obituary Notice of Burns, - 213 

Remarks on Burns's Character and Talents, - - 217 



POSTHUMOUS HISTORY OF BURNS. 

Burns's Debts, ------ 221 

Generous Conduct of Mr James Burnes, - - 222 

Debt of Gilbert Burns. Generous Conduct of Mrs R. Burns, 222 
Syme, Maxwell, and Cunningham exert themselves for Burns's 

Family, ------- 223 

Dr Currie becomes Biographer and Editor of Burns, - 223 

Subscription for the Poet's Family, - - - - 224 

Editorial Proceedings of Dr Currie, . - - 225 

Mrs M'Lehose. Mr George Thomson, _ - - 225 

Publication of Currie's Edition of Burns's Works, - 228 

Subsequent History of Mrs R. Burns, - - _ 229 

The Poet's Sons, ----- 229 

Gilbert Burns— his Edition, 1820, - - 231 

Monument to Burns, ----- 233 



*H CONTENTS. 

PAGH 

Veksicles of Burns, - - - - - 235 

Songs of which the Date is not Known, - - 248 

Old Songs improved by Burns, - d 251 

Notes to Johnson's Musical Museum, - - 278 

Prose Articles unplaced, - 292 

Pieces doubtfully attributed to Burns, - - 295 



APPENDIX. 

No. 13. Keputation of Burns in his latter Years, - 299 

] 4. Subscriptions for Burns's Family, - 304 

15. The Cranium of Burns, ... 307 

16. Bibliography of Burns, - - - 312 

Index — 

List of the Poems, - - - - • 321 

Index to the Songs, - 324 

General Index, - - 327 



LIFE AND WORKS 



OF 



ROBERT BURNS. 



DUMFRIES. 

December 1791 — July 1796 — (continued.) 

We have seen that, in July 1793, when Burns was asserting his 
independence of remuneration for his songs, he was in circum- 
stances to render the receipt of a little money highly desirable. 
It was a time of general difficulty and distress, in consequence of 
the disturbance which the war created in the usual course of 
commerce, and the additional burdens which it threw upon the 
country. Consols, which had been at 96 in the beginning of the 
preceding year, were down to 78. In the month of July, the 
number of Scottish bankrupts was forty- three, or about four 
times the average. Burns suffered among the rest, for an extra 
income which he derived from the unloading of foreign vessels 
was now at an end. \ 



TO MR PETER HILL. 



[Dumfries, July 1793 ?] 

My dear Sir — * * * * Now that business is over, how are you, 

and how do you weather this accursed time? God only knows 

what will be the consequence ; but in the meantime the country, at 

least in our part of it, is still progressive to the devil. For my part, 



14 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

' I jouk, and let the jaw flee o'er.' 1 As my hopes in this world are 
but slender, I am turning rapidly devotee, in the prospect of sharing 
largely in the Avorld to come. 

How is old sinful Smellie coming on ? Is there any talk of his 
second volume? If you meet with my much- valued old friend, 
Colonel Dunbar of the Crocliallan Fencibles, remember me most 
affectionately to him. Alas ! not unfrequently, when my heart is 
in a wandering humour, I live past scenes over again. To my 
mind's eye, you, Dunbar, Cleghorn, Cunningham, &c. present their 
friendly phizfes], and my bosom aches with tender recollections. 
Adieu! • E. B. 

In the latter part of July, the poet had an excursion through 
Galloway with his friend Mr Syme, who communicated to Dr 
Currie an animated account of their adventures : — 

■ I got Burns a gray Highland shelty to ride on. We dined 
the first day, 27th July 1793, at Glendonwyne's of Parton — a 
beautiful situation on the banks of the Dee. In the evening, we 
walked out, and ascended a gentle eminence, from which we had 
as fine a view of Alpine scenery as can well be imagined. A 
delightful soft evening shewed all its wilder as well as its grander 
graces. Immediately opposite, and within a mile of us, we saw 
Airds, a charming romantic place, where dwelt Lowe, the author 
of Mary iceep no more for me. 2 This was classical ground for 
Burns. He viewed " the highest hill which rises o'er the source 
of Dee;" and would have stayed till "the passing spirit " had 
appeared, had we not resolved to reach Kenmure that night. 
We arrived as Mr and Mrs Gordon 3 were sitting down to supper. 

' Here is a genuine baron's seat. The castle, an old building, 
stands on a large natural moat. In front, the river Ken winds for 
several miles through the most fertile and beautiful holm? till it 
expands into a lake twelve miles long, the banks of which, on the 
south, present a fine and soft landscape of green knolls, natural 
wood, and here and there a gray rock. On the north, the aspect 
is great, wild, and, I may say, tremendous. In short, I can 

i A Scottish proverbial expression, as much as to say, ' I duck, and let the wave 
pass over me.' 

2 A beautiful and well-known ballad, which begins thus — 

' The moon had climbed the highest hill 

Which rises o'er the source of Dee; 
And from the eastern summit shed 
Its silver light on tower and tree.' 

3 Mr Gordon was representative of the Viscounts Kenmure— a title restored in 
his person in 1824. 

4 The level low ground on the banks of a river or stream. This word should be 
adopted from the Scottish, as, indeed, ought several others of the same nature. 
That dialect is singularly copious and exact in the denominations of natural objeets. 
— Currie. 



EXCURSION WITH SYME IN GALLOWAY. 15 

scarcely conceive a scene more terribly romantic than the castle 
of Kenmure. Burns thinks so highly of it, that he meditates a 
description of it in poetry: indeed, I believe he has begun the 
work. We spent three days with Mr Gordon, whose polished 
hospitality is of an original and endearing kind. Mrs Gordon's 
lap-dog, Echo, was dead. She would have an epitaph for him. 
Several had been made. Burns was asked for one. This was 
setting Hercules to his distaff. He disliked the subject, but to 
please the lady, he would try. Here is what he produced — 



" In wood and wild, ye warbling throng, 
Your heavy loss deplore ! 
Now half extinct your powers of song, 
Sweet Echo is no more. 

Ye jarring, screeching things around, 
Scream your discordant joys ! 

Now half your din of tuneless song 
With Echo silent lies." 



1 We left Kenmure and went to Gatehouse. I took him the 
moor - road, where savage and desolate regions extended wide 
around. The sky was sympathetic with the wretchedness of the 
soil; it became lowering and dark. The hollow winds sighed, 
the lightnings gleamed, the thunder rolled. The poet enjoyed 
the awful scene : he spoke not a word, but seemed rapt in medi- 
tation. In a little while, the rain began to fall; it poured in 
floods upon us. For three hours did the wild elements rumble 
their belly full upon our defenceless heads. Oh ! oh ! "'twas foul. 
We got utterly wet ; and, to revenge ourselves, Burns insisted at 
Gatehouse on our getting utterly drunk. 

\ From Gatehouse, we went next day to Kirkcudbright, through 
a fine country. But here I must tell you that Burns had got a 
pair of jemmy boots for the journey, which had been thoroughly 
wet, and which had been dried in such manner that it was not 
possible to get them on again. The brawny poet tried force, and 
tore them to shreds. A whiffling vexation of this sort is more 
trying to the temper than a serious calamity. We were going to 
St Mary's Isle, the seat of the Earl of Selkirk, and the forlorn 
Burns was discomfited at the thought of his ruined boots. A 
sick stomach and a headache lent their aid, and the man of verse 
was quite accable. I attempted to reason with him. Mercy on 
us, how he did fume and rage ! Nothing could reinstate him in 
temper. I tried various expedients, and at last hit on one that 



16 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

succeeded: I shewed him the house of [Garlieston? 1 ], across the 
Bay of Wigton. Against [the Earl of Galloway? 2 ], with whom he 
was offended, he expectorated his spleen, and regained a most 
agreeable temper. He was in a most epigrammatic humour 
indeed ! He afterwards fell on humbler game. There is one 
****** whom fr e d oes no t love : he had a passing blow at 
him — 

" "When , deceased, to the devil went down, 

'Twas nothing would serve him but Satan's own crown ; 
Thy fool's head, quoth Satan, that crown shall wear never, 
I grant thou'rt as wicked, but not quite so clever." 

' Well, I am to bring you to Kirkcudbright along with our 
poet without boots. I carried the torn ruins across my saddle 
in spite of his fulminations, and in contempt of appearances; 
and, what is more, Lord Selkirk 3 carried them in his coach to 
Dumfries. He insisted they were worth mending. 4 

' We reached Kirkcudbright about one o'clock. I had promised 
that we should dine with one of the first men in our country, 
J. Dalzell. 5 But Burns was in a wifd and obstreperous humour, 
and swore he would not dine where he should be under the smallest 
restraint. We prevailed, therefore, on Mr Dalzell to dine with 
us in the inn, and had a very agreeable party. In the evening, 
we set out for St Mary's Isle. Robert had not absolutely regained 
the milkiness of good temper, and it occurred once or twice to 
him, as he rode along, that St Mary's Isle was the seat of a lord ; 
yet that lord was not an aristocrat, at least in his sense of the 
word. We arrived about eight o'clock, as the family were at tea 

1 Left blank by Currie. 2 Also left blank by Currie. 

3 This was the formal Lord Selkirk, of whom Sir Walter Scott tells so amusing 
an anecdote in his Malagrowther Letters. 

4 Mr R. Cole, of London, preserves in his curious collection of original papers, 
several of the accounts for household and other articles furnished by Dumfries 
tradesmen to Robert Burns. It is just possible that the reader may feel some 
interest in learning that the bard had his boots from Robert Anderson, at L.l, 2a. 
a pair, being four times the price of a pair of men's shoes in those days. This is so 
respectable a price in relation to our poet's income, that one cannot much wonder 
at his vexation in losing his 'jemmy boots.' 

5 John Dalzell of Barncroch, near Kirkcudbright, was a man of mirthful spirit 
and social character, highly calculated to gain the love of our bard ; and accordingly 
they were very good friends. Mr Dalzell was also on intimate terms with Mr 
Gordon of Kenmure, who once sent him a present of a snuff mull. The acknow- 
ledgment of the gift was in much the same terms as those which Burns might hava 
been expected to use on a similar occasion : 

' Your present I received, and letter ; 
No compliment could please me better. 
Ex dono Kenmure I'll put on it, 
And crown it wi' a silver bonnet, 

In spite of a' the deils in , 

Your humble servant, 

John Dalzell.' 



BURNS AT ST MARY'S ISLE. 17 

and coffee. St Mary's Isle is one of the most delightful places 
that can, in my opinion, be formed by the assemblage of every soft 
but not tame object which constitutes natural and cultivated beauty. 
But not to dwell on its external graces, let me tell you that we 
found all the ladies of the family (all beautiful) at home, and some 
strangers ; and, among others, who but Urbani 1 } The Italian sang 
us many Scottish songs, accompanied with instrumental music. 
The two young ladies of Selkirk sang also. We had the song of 
Lord Gregory, which I asked for, to have an opportunity of 
calling on Burns to recite his ballad to that tune. He did recite 
it ; and such was the effect, that a dead silence ensued. It was 
such a silence as a mind of feeling naturally preserves when it is 
touched with that enthusiasm which banishes every other thought 
but the contemplation and indulgence of the sympathy produced. 
Burns's Lord Gregory is, in my opinion, a most beautiful and 
affecting ballad. The fastidious critic may perhaps say, some of 
the sentiments and imagery are of too elevated a kind for such a 
style of composition ; for instance, " Thou bolt of heaven that 
passest by;" and, "Ye mustering thunder," &c; but this is a 
cold-blooded objection, which will be said rather than /eft. 

' We enjoyed a most happy evening at Lord Selkirk's. We 
had, in every sense of the word, a feast, in which our minds and 
our senses were equally gratified. The poet was delighted with 
his company, and acquitted himself to admiration. The lion that 
had raged so violently in the morning, was now as mild and gentle 
as a lamb. Next day we returned to Dumfries ; and so ends our 
peregrination. I told you that, in the midst of the storm, on the 
wilds of Kenmure, Burns was rapt in meditation. What do you 
think he was about ? He was charging the English army, along 
with Bruce, at Bannockburn. He was engaged in the same 
manner on our ride home from St Mary's Isle, and I did not 
disturb him. Next day, he produced me the following address of 
Bruce to his troops, and gave me a copy for Dalzell : 
" Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled," ' &c. 



By the kindness of Mr Joseph Train, I am enabled to add a 
statement by Mr Carson, one of the gentlemen whom Burns 
and Syme met at Kenmure : — 

' The only friends of the host and hostess invited to meet the 
travellers, Burns and Syme, at Kenmure, were the Rev. John 
Gillespie, the highly-esteemed minister of the parish (Kells), and 
myself. 

1 Pietro Urbani, an Italian musician, now eettled in Edinburgh. He edited a 
collection of the Sons-Music of Scotland. 



18 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

1 On the evening preceding their departure, the bard having 
expressed his intention of climbing to the top of "the highest 
hill that rises o'er the source of Dee, 1 ' there to see the arbour of 
Lowe, the author of the celebrated song, Mary's Dream, Mr 
Gordon proposed that they should all sail down the loch in his 
barge Glenkens, to the Airds Hill below Lowe's seat. Seeing 
that this proposal was intended in compliment by the worthy 
host both to the bard and to Mr Gillespie, who had been the 
patron of Lowe, the gentlemen all concurred; and the weather 
proving propitious next morning, the vessel soon dropt down 
to the foot of Loch Ken with all the party on board. Mean- 
while, Mr Gordon's groom led the travellers' horses round to the 
Boat-o'-Rhone, saddled and bridled, that each rider might mount 
on descending from the poet's seat ; but the barge unfortunately 
grounded before reaching the proposed landing-place — an obstruc- 
tion not anticipated by any of the party. Mr Gordon, with the 
assistance of an oar, vaulted from the prow of the little vessel to 
the beach, and was soon followed in like manner by Mr Syme 
«md myself; thus leaving only the venerable pastor of Kells 
and the bard on board. The former, being too feeble to jump, 
as we had done, to land, expressed a desire to remain in the vessel 
till Mr Gordon and I returned; upon hearing which, the generous 
bard instantly slipt into the water, which was, however, so deep 
as to wet him to the knees. After a short entreaty, he succeeded 
in getting the clergyman on his shoulders ; on observing which, 
Mr Syme raised his hands, laughed immoderately, and exclaimed: 
" Well, Burns, of all the men on earth, you are the last that I 
could have expected to see priest-ridden I " We laughed also, but 
Burns did not seem to enjoy the joke. He made no reply, but 
carried his load silently through the reeds to land. 

' When Mr Syme's account of this excursion with the bard into 
Galloway appeared in Dr Currie's first edition of the Life and 
Works of Robert Burns, the Glenkens people, who were actors 
in this part of the drama, were very much surprised to find the 
above incident not even alluded to ; but we plainly perceived that 
Syme had only taken a few incidents of the journey as pegs to 
hang other drapery upon. We were all fully satisfied that it was 
by the bard's wading in the loch that his new boots were so 
thoroughly wet, and that the choler or independence next day 
manifested by him to Syme was only the result of his wounded 
feelings at having been made such a laughing-stock by his friend 
for merely rendering the assistance due by common humanity 
to old age or infirmity, which Mr Gordon and myself charged 
ourselves afterwards for having overlooked in that instance." ' 

The impulsive, irritable, way ward temper of Burns is strongly 



PAINFUL VIEW OF THE POET'S DESTINY. 19 

shewn in Mr Syme's narration. This, however, is not the Burns 
of former days: it is the Burns of a troublous time, exasperated 
by national movements in politics contrary to his judgment and 
best feelings, and by a tyrannous control of circumstances over the 
natural privileges which he most dearly esteemed. Reflections 
on his own impulsive career, which had embayed him in a posi- 
tion destructive of his independence and humiliating to his pride, 
probably mingled with his mood. He growls and vents epigrams 
at persons with whom he was causelessly offended ; he starts 
at the idea of going to the house of a nobleman, though that 
nobleman was a Whig, and the father of his old acquaintance 
Lord Daer, by whose easy manners he had been disabused of 
earlier prejudices of the like kind, and who was now distinguishing 
himself by his demonstrations in favour of that cause which Burns 
had at heart. These are traits which we could not have expected 
from the poet in the days of Blair and Castle-Gordon. It is 
worthy of remark, that Syme himself, Mr Gordon of Kenmure, 
Mr Dalzell, and the earl, were all Whigs. Burns had been from 
the first, notwithstanding his Jacobitism, taken up by that party ; 
and his present circle of friends was mainly composed of it. 

We see the aggravated sensitiveness of the poet in a letter 
written very soon after the excursion w ?; ith Syme. 

TO MISS CRA1K. 1 

Dumfries, August 1793. 

Madam — Some rather unlooked-for accidents have prevented my 
doing myself the honour of a second visit to Arbigland, as I was so 
hospitably invited, and so positively meant to have done. However, 
I still hope to have that pleasure before the busy months of harvest 
begin. 

I enclose you two of my late pieces, as some kind of return for the 
pleasure I have received in perusing a certain MS. volume of poems 
in the possession of Captain Riddel. To repay one with an old song 
is a proverb whose force you, madam, I know, will not allow. What 
is said of illustrious descent is, I believe, equally true of a talent for 
poetry — none ever despised it who had pretensions to it. The fates 
and characters of the rhyming tribe often employ my thoughts when 
I am disposed to be melancholy. There is not, among all the 
martyrologies that ever were penned, so rueful a narrative as the 
lives of the poets. In the comparative view of wretches, the criterion 
is not what they are doomed to suffer, but how they are formed to 
bear. Take a being of our kind, give him a stronger imagination 
and a more delicate sensibility, which between them will ever 
engender a more ungovernable set of passions than are the usual lot 
of man; implant in him an irresistible impulse to some idle vagary, 

1 Daughter of Mr Craik of Arbigland, in the Stewai try of Kirkcudbright.. 



20 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

such as arranging wild -flowers in fantastical nosegays, tracing the 
grasshopper to his haunt by his chirping song, watching the frisks 
of the little minnows in the sunny pool, or hunting after the 
intrigues of butterflies — in short, send him adrift after some pursuit 
which shall eternally mislead him from the paths of lucre, and yet 
curse him with a keener relish than any man living for the plea- 
sures that lucre can purchase ; lastly, fill up the measure of his woes 
by bestowing on him a spurning sense of his own dignity — and you 
have created a wight nearly as miserable as a poet. To you, madam, 
I need not recount the fairy pleasures the Muse bestows, to counter- 
balance this catalogue of evils. Bewitching poetry is like bewitching 
woman : she has in all ages been accused of misleading mankind 
from the councils of wisdom and the paths of prudence, involving 
them in difficulties, baiting them with poverty, branding them with 
infamy, and plunging them in the whirling vortex of ruin; yet 
where is the man but must own that all our happiness on earth is 
not worthy the name — that even the holy hermit's solitary prospect 
of paradisiacal bliss is but the glitter of a northern sun rising over 
a frozen region — compared with the many pleasures, the name- 
less raptures, that we owe to the lovely queen of the heart of 
man ! E. B. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Edinburgh, 1st August 1793. 

Dear Sir — I had the pleasure of receiving your last two letters, 
and am happy to find you are quite pleased with the appearance 
of the first book. When you come to hear the songs sung and 
accompanied, you will be charmed with them. 

The Bonnie Brucket Lassie certainly deserves better verses, and 
I hope you will match her. Cauld Kail in Aberdeen, Let me in this 
ae Nighty and several of the livelier airs, wait the Muse's leisure ; 
these are peculiarly worthy of her choice gifts ; besides, you '11 notice 
that in airs of this sort the singer can always do greater justice to 
the poet than in the slower airs of The Bush aboon Traquair, Lord 
Gregory, and the like ; for in the manner the latter were frequently 
sung, you must be contented with the sound without the sense. 
Indeed, both the airs and words are disguised by the very slow, 
languid, psalm-singing style in which they are too often performed ; 
they lose animation and expression altogether, and instead of speak- 
ing to the mind, or touching the heart, they cloy upon the ear, and 
set us a-yawning ! 1 

Your ballad, There was a Lass, and she was Fair, is simple and 
beautiful, and shall undoubtedly grace my collection. 2 

1 I am tempted out of my usual track to remark the justice of this criticism. The 
slowness with which a certain class of the Scottish airs are sung, is assuredly much 
to be regretted. 

2 Mr Thomson had here added some verbal criticism, to which allusion, was made 
in course by Burns. 



1 PHILLIS THE FAIR.' 21 

BURNS TO ME, THOMSON. 

August 1793. 
My dear Thomson — I hold the pen for our friend Clarke, who at 
present is studying the music of the spheres at my elbow. The 
Georgium Sidus he thinks is rather out of tune ; so until he rectify- 
that matter, he cannot stoop to terrestrial affairs. 

He sends you six of the rondeau subjects, and if more are wanted, 
he says you shall have them. 

Confound l your long stairs ! S. Clarke. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

August 1793. 
Your objection, my dear sir, to the passages in my song of Logan 
Water, is right in one instance ; the phrase ' cruel joys' is there 
improper ; but it is difficult to mend it : if I can, I will. The other 
passage you object to does not appear in the same light to me. 

[Here Burns transcribed a song of six stanzas which he had just composed on the 
basis of an old song called, Let me in this ae Night. It is so much below the standard 
of his compositions of that class, that Currie had thought proper to leave it in the 
manuscript.] 

I have tried my hand on Robin Adair, and, you will probably 
think, with little success ; but it is such a cursed, cramp, out-of-the- 
way measure, that I despair of doing anything better to it. 

PHILLIS THE FAIR. 

Tune — Robin Adair. 

While larks with little wing 

Fanned the pure air, 
Tasting the breathing spring, 

Forth I did fare : 
Gay the sun's golden eye 
Peeped o'er the mountains high; 
Such thy morn ! did I cry, 

Phillis the fair. 

In each bird's careless song, 

Glad did I share ; 
While yon wild-flowers among, 

Chance led me there : 
Sweet to the opening day, 
Rosebuds bent the dewy spray; 
Such thy bloom ! did I say, 

Phillis the fair. 

1 So in Currie : in manuscript, a Btronger word. The signature ' S. Clarke ' is 
In Clarke's hand. 



22 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Down in a shady walk 

Doves cooing were ; 
I marked the cruel hawk 

Caught in a snare : 
So kind may fortune be, 
Such make his destiny, 
He who would injure thee, 

Phillis the fair. 

So much for namby-pamby. I may, after all, try my hand on it in 
Scots verse. There I always find myself most at home. 

I have just put the last hand to the song I meant for Cauld Kail in 
Aberdeen. 1 If it suits you to insert it, I shall be pleased, as the 
heroine is a favourite of mine : if not, I shall also be pleased ; 
because I wish, and will be glad, to see you act decidedly on the 
business. 'Tis a tribute as a man of taste, and as an editor, which 
you owe yourself. 

Burns is understood to have in Phillis the Fair represented the 
tender feelings which Clarke entertained towards Miss Philadelphia 
M'Murdo, one of his pupils. This lady afterwards became Mrs 
Norman Lockhart of Carnwath. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

August 1793. 

My good Sir — I consider it one of the most agreeable circum- 
stances attending this publication of mine, that it has procured me 
so many of your much-valued epistles. Pray make my acknowledg- 
ments to St Stephen for the tunes : tell him I admit the justness of 
his complaint on my staircase, conveyed in his laconic postscript 
to your jeu d'esprit, which I perused more than once without dis- 
covering exactly whether your discussion was music, astronomy, or 
politics; though a sagacious friend, acquainted with the convivial 
habits of the poet and the musician, offered me a bet of two to one 
you were just drowning care together ; that an empty bowl was the 
only thing that would deeply affect you, and the only matter you 
could then study how to remedy ! 

I shall be glad to see you give Robin Adair a Scottish dress. 
Peter is furnishing him with an English suit for a change, and you 
are well matched together. Robin's air is excellent, though he 
certainly has an out-of-the-way measure as ever poor Parnassian 
wight was plagued with. I wish you would invoke the Muse for a 
single elegant stanza, to be substituted for the concluding objection- 
able verses of Down the Burn, Davie, so that this most exquisite song 
may no longer be excluded from good company. 

1 The song now usually called Puirtith Cauld. 



1 HAD I A CAVE.' 23 

Mr Allan has made an inimitable drawing from your John 
Anderson my jo> which I am te have engraved as a frontispiece to 
the humorous class of songs : you will be quite charmed with it, I 
promise you. The old couple are seated by the fireside. Mrs 
Anderson, in great good-humour, is clapping John's shoulders, while 
he smiles and looks at her with such glee, as to shew that he fully 
recollects the pleasant days and nights when they were ' first acquent.' 
The drawing would do honour to the pencil of Teniers. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

August 1793. 
That crinkum - crankum tune, Robin Adair ■, has run so in my 
head, and I succeeded so ill in my last attempt, that I have ventured, 
in this morning's walk, one essay more. You, my dear sir, will 
remember an unfortunate part of our worthy friend Cunningham's 
story, which happened about three years ago. That struck ray 
fancy, and I endeavoured to do the idea justice as follows : — 

HAD I A CAVE. 

Tune — Robin Adair. 

Had I a cave on some wild distant shore, 

"Where the winds howl to the waves' dashing roar ; 

There would I weep my woes, 

There seek my lost repose, 

Till grief my eyes should close, 
Ne'er to wake more ! 

Falsest of womankind ! canst thou declare, 
All thy fond-plighted vows — fleeting as air ! 

To thy new lover hie, 

Laugh o'er thy perjury; 

Then in thy bosom try 
What peace is there ! 

By the way, I have met with a musical Highlander in Breadal- 
bane's Fencibles, which are quartered here, who assures me that he 
well remembers his mother singing Gaelic songs to both Robin Adair 
and Gramachree. They certainly have more of the Scotch than Irish 
taste in them. 

This man comes from the vicinity of Inverness, so it could not be 
any intercourse with Ireland that could bring them ; except what I 
shrewdly suspect to be the case — the wandering minstrels, harpers, 
and pipers, used to go frequently errant through the wilds both of 



24 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Scotland and Ireland, and so some favourite airs might be common to 
both. A case in point — they have lately, in Ireland, published an 
Irish air, as they say, called Caun du delish. The fact is, in a publi- 
cation of Corri's a great while ago, you will find the same air, called 
a Highland one, with a Gaelic song set to it. Its name there, I 
think, is Oran Gaoil, and a fine air it is. Do ask honest Allan, or the 
Rev. Gaelic parson, about these matters. 

Cunningham had wooed a young lady of many personal attrac- 
tions ; but, on another lover presenting himself, with some superior 
pretensions of an extrinsic character, she deserted the poet's friend 
with a degree of coolness which seems to have for the time excited 
great and general surprise. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[19<A] August 1793. 

My dear Sir — Let me in this ae Night I will reconsider. I am 
glad that you are pleased with my song, Had I a Cave, &c. as I liked 
it myself. 

I walked out yesterday evening with a volume of the Museum in 
my hand, when, turning up Allan Water, What Numbers shall the 
Muse repeat, &c. as the words appeared to me rather unworthy of 
so fine an air, and recollecting that it is on your list, I sat and raved 
under the shade of an old thorn, till I wrote one to suit the measure. 
I may be wrong, but I think it not in my worst style. You must 
know that in Ramsay's Tea- Table, where the modern song first 
appeared, the ancient name of the tune, Allan says, is Allan Water, 
or My Love Annie's very Bonnie. This last has certainly been a 
line of the original song ; so I took up the idea, and, as you will see, 
have introduced the line in its place, which I presume it formerly 
occupied ; though I likewise give you a choosing line, if it should 
not hit the cut of your fancy : 



BY ALLAN STREAM I CHANCED TO ROVE. 
Tune — Allan Water. 

By Allan stream I chanced to rove, 

While Phoebus sank beyond Benledi ; 
The winds were whispering through the grove, 

The yellow corn was waving ready : 
I listened to a lover's sang, 

And thought on youthfu' pleasures mony; 
And aye the wild-wood echoes rang — 

Oh, dearly do I love thee, Annie 1 



BURNS S WALKS AT DUMFRIES. 



26 



Oh, happy be the woodbine bower, 

Nae nightly bogle make it eerie ; 
Nor ever sorrow stain the hour, 

The place and time I met my dearie ! 
Her head upon my throbbing breast, 

She, sinking, said, 'I'm thine for ever!' 
"While mony a kiss the s«qj imprest, 

The sacred vow, we niter should sever. 

The haunt o' Spring's the primrose brae, 

The Simmer joys the flocks to follow ; 
How cheery through her shortening day, 

Is Autumn, in her weeds o' yellow ! 
But can they melt the glowing heart, 

Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure ? 
Or through each nerve the rapture dart, 

Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure ? 

Bravo ! say I ; it is a good song. Should you think so too (not else), 
you can set the music to it, and let the other follow as English verses. 

Autumn is my propitious season. I make more verses in it than 
all the year else. God bless you ! l 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

August 1793. 
You may readily trust, my dear sir, that any exertion in my power 
is heartily at your service. But one thing I must hint to you : the 
very name of Peter Pindar is of great service to your publication ; 
so get a verse from him now and then, though I have no objection, 
as well as I can, to bear the burden of the business. 2 

Is Whistle, and I'll come to you, my Lad, one of your airs ? I admire 



1 ' While he lived in Dumfries, he had three favourite walks : to the Dock-Green 
by the river-side — among the ruins of Lincluden College — and towards the Marting- 
don-ford, on the north side of the Nith. This latter place was secluded, commanded 
a view of the distant hills, and the romantic towers of Lincluden, and afforded 
soft greensward banks to rest upon, and the sight and sound of the stream. Here 
he composed many of his finest songs. As soon as he was heard to hum to himself, 
his wife saw that he had something in his mind, and was prepared to see him 
enatch up his hat, and set silently off for his musing-ground. Wiien by himself, 
and in the open air, his ideas arranged themselves in their natural order — words 
came at will,* and he seldom returned without having finished a song. In case of 
interruption, he set about completing it at the fireside ; he balanced himself on the 
hind-legs of his arm-chair, and rocking to and fro, continued to hum the tune, and 
Beldom failed of success. When the verses were finished, he passed them through 
the ordeal of Mrs Hurns's voice ; listened attentively when she sang ; asked her if 
any of the words Avere difficult; and when one happened to be too rough, he readily 
found a smoother— but he never, save at the resolute entreaty of a scientific musi- 
cian, sacrificed sense to sound. The autumn was his favourite- season, and the 
twilight his favourite hour of study.' — A. Cunningham. 

2 Dr Currie has transferred this pa»agraph from the present, its proper place, to 
the head of a subsequent letter. 

IV B 



26 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

it much, and yesterday I set the following verses to it. TJrhani, whom 
I have met with here, begged them of me, as he admires the air 
much ; but as I understand that he looks with rather an evil eye on 
your work, I did not choose to comply. However, if the song does 
not suit your taste, I may possibly send it him. He is, entre nous, a 
narrow, contracted creature ; but he sings so delightfully, that what- 
ever he introduces at your concert must have immediate celebrity. 
The set of the air which I had in my eye is in Johnson's Museum. 

WHISTLE, AND I 'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD. 

Tune — Whistle, and I'll come to you, my Lad. 

O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad, 

whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad ; 

Th igh father and mither and a' should gae mad, 

O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad. 

But w: •' ly tent, when ye come to court me, 
And oome na unless the back-yett be a-jee ; 
Syne p the back-stile, and let naebody see, 
And come as ye were na comin' to me. 

At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me, 
Gang by me as though that ye cared nae a flie ; 
But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black ee, 
Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me. 

Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me, 
And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a wee ; 
But court na anither, though jokin' ye be, 
For fear that she wile your fancy frae me. 1 

Another favourite air of mine is The Mucking o' Geordie's Byre. 
"When sung slow with expression, I have 'wished that it had had 
better poetry : that I have endeavoured to supply as follows : — 

DOWN WINDING NITH I DID WANDER. 

Tune — The Mucking o' Geordie's Byre. 

Adown winding Nith I did wander, 

To mark the sweet flowers as they spring ; 
Adown winding Nith I did wander, 



Awa wi' your belles and your beauties, 

They never wi' her can compare : 
Whaever has met wi' my Phillis, 

Has met wi' the queen o' the fair. 

i The two first stanzas of this song had appeared in the second volume of the Scots 
Musical Museum. 



PETER PINDAR. ' 27 

The daisy amused my fond fancy, 

So artless, so simple, so wild ; 
Thou emblem, said I, o' my Phillis ! 

For she is simplicity's child. 

The rose-bud 's the blush o' my charmer. 

Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest : 
How fair and how pure is the lily, 

But fairer and purer her breast. 

Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour, 

They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie : 
Her breath is the breath o' the woodbine, 

Its dew-drop o' diamond her eye. 

Her voice is the song of the morning, 

That wakes through the green-spreading grove, 

When Phoebus peeps over the mountains, 
On music, and pleasure, and love. 

But, beauty, how frail and how fleeting — 

The bloom of a fine summer's day ! 
While worth in the mind o' my Phillis 

Will flourish without a decay. 

Mr Clarke begs you to give Miss Phillis a corner in your book, 
as she is a particular flame of his. She is a Miss Phillis M'Murdo, 
sister to ' Bonnie Jean.' They are both pupils of his. You shall 
hear from me the very first grist I get from my rhyming-mill. 

A modern reader will be surprised by the terms in which Burns 
speaks of Peter Pindar, whose works are now condemned to 
oblivion. He certainly was a remarkable example of the extent 
to which moderate abilities, exerted in subserviency to popular 
prejudices, and with a ribald recklessness towards all true taste 
in literature, will carry their possessor on the way to what appears 
for the time literary distinction. It must ever be a humiliating 
consideration that this modern Aretin was richly pensioned by 
the booksellers, while Burns, the true sweet singer, lived in 
comparative poverty. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[28tft] August 1793. 



That tune, Cauld Kail, is such a favourite of yours, that I once 
more roved out yesterday for a gloamin-shot at the Muses ; l when 

1 Gloamin, twilight— probably from glooming. A beautiful poetic word, which 
ought to be adopted in England. A gloamin-shot, a twilight interview. — Currib, 



28 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

the Muse that presides o'er the shores of Mth, or rather my old 
inspiring dearest nymph, Coila, whispered me the following. I have 
two reasons for thinking that it was my early, sweet simple inspirer 
that was by my elbow, ' smooth gliding without step,' and pouring 
the song on my glowing fancy. In the first place, since I left Coila's 
native haunts, not a fragment of a poet has arisen to cheer her 
solitary musings, by catching inspiration from her, so I more than 
suspect that she has followed me hither, or at least makes me occa- 
sional visits ; secondly, the last stanza of this song I send you is 
the very words that Coila taught me many years ago, and which I set 
to an old Scots reel in Johnson's Museum. 

COME, LET ME TAKE THEE TO MY BREAST. 

Air — Cauld Kail. 

Come, let me take thee to my breast, 

And pledge we ne'er shall sunder ; 
And I shall spurn as vilest dust 

The warld's wealth and grandeur : 
And do I hear my Jeanie own 

That equal transports move her ? 
I ask for dearest life alone 

That I may live to love her. 

Thus in my arms, wi ? all thy charms, 

I clasp my countless treasure ; 
I'll seek nae mair o' heaven to share, 

Than sic a moment's pleasure : 
And by thy een sae bonnie blue, 

I swear I 'm thine for ever ! 
And on thy lips I seal my vow, 

And break it shall I never ! 

If you think the above will suit your idea of your favourite air, I 
shall be highly pleased. The last Time I came o'er the Moor I cannot 
meddle with as to mending it ; and the musical world have been so 
long accustomed to Bamsay's words, that a different song, though 
positively superior, would not be so well received. I am not fond 
of choruses to songs, so I have not made one for the foregoing. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[28^] Atyust 1793, 
DAINTY DAVIE. 

Tune— Dainty Davie. 

Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers, 
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers ; 
And now come in my happy hours, 
To wander wi' my Davie. 



ACTIVITY IN SONG- WRITING IN AUTUMN '93. 29 



Meet me on the warlock knowe, 

Dainty Davie, dainty Davie ; 
There I'll spend the day wi' you, 

My ain dear dainty Davie. 

The crystal waters round us fa', 
The merry birds are lovers a', 
The scented breezes round us blaw 
A-wandering wi' my Davie. 

When purple morning starts the hare, 
To steal Upon her early fare, 
Then through the dews I will repair, 
To meet my faithfu' Davie. 

When day, expiring in the west, 
The curtain draws o' nature's rest, 
I flee to his arms I loe best, 
And that's my ain dear Davie. 

So much for Davie. The chorus, you know, is to the low part 
of the tune. See Clarke's set of it in the Museum. 

N.B. — In the Museum, they have drawled out the tune to twelve 

lines of poetry, which is nonsense. Four lines of song, and 

Four of chorus, is the way. 

The tune of Dainty Davie had been in Burns's hands some 
years before, when he composed to it a song with the awkward 
burden, The Gardener wi 1 his Paidle. 1 His taste suggesting to 
him the impossibility of any such song becoming popular, he now 
put the verses into the above improved fashion. It is understood 
that the homely old song which Burns thus superseded was 
composed upon an adventure of the Rev. David Williamson, in 
the time of ' the Persecution.' Williamson died minister of St 
Cuthbert's, near Edinburgh, after having married seven wives. 

The letters of this month shew a remarkable activity in song- 
writing. The commercial distresses of the country were great ; 
the government was preparing to try Muir and Palmer for 
sedition, and no mercy was expected ; the world, in Burns's 
opinion, was out of joint. Yet we see him full of enthusiasm 
•in writing and criticising Scottish songs, and making only that 
faint glance at politics, in the remark on the Georgium Sidus. 
It must not be supposed from this fact, that he had forced himself 
into an indifference towards either the state of affairs in France, 
where the unfortunate Girondists were now perishing in the 

1 See volume iii., p. 109. 



30 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

fields and on the scaffold, or to the progress of the reaction at 
home, which threatened to crush every sentiment of liberty in 
which England had formerly gloried. But the beauty of the 
season had come over him with its benign influence, and he gladly 
sought some relief from the exasperations of public affairs in th& 
soothing blandishments of the Doric muse. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Edinburgh, 1st Sept. 1793. 

My dear Sir — Since writing you last, I have received half-a- 
dozen songs, with which I am delighted beyond expression. The 
humour and fancy of Whistle, and I'll come to you, my Lad, will 
render it nearly as great a favourite as Duncan Gray. Come, let 
me take thee to my Breast, Adown winding Nith, and By Allan 
Stream, &c. are full of imagination and feeling, and sweetly suit the 
airs for which they are intended. Had I a Gave on some wild distant 
Shore, is a striking and affecting composition. Our friend, to whose 
story it refers, reads it with a swelling heart, I assure you. The 
union we are now forming, I think, can never be broken: these 
songs of yours will descend, with the music, to the latest posterity, 
and will be fondly cherished so long as genius, taste, and sensibility 
exist in our island. 

While the Muse seems so propitious, I think it right to enclose a 
list of all the favours I have to ask of her — no fewer than twenty 
and three ! I have burdened the pleasant Peter with as many as it 
is probable he will attend to : most of the remaining airs would 
puzzle the English poet not a little- — they are of that peculiar 
measure and rhythm, that they must be familiar to him who writes 
for them. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

Sept 179a 

You know that my pretensions to musical taste are merely a 
few of nature's instincts, untaught and untutored by art. For this 
reason many musical compositions, particularly where much of the 
merit lies in counterpoint, however they may transport and ravish 
the ears of you connoisseurs, affect my simple lug no otherwise than 
merely as melodious din. On the other hand, by way of amends, I 
am delighted with many little melodies, which the learned musician 
despises as silly and insipid. I do not know whether the old air, 
Hey, tuttie taitie, may rank among this number; but well I know 
that, with Fraser's hautboy, 1 it has often filled my eyes with tears. 

1 Fraser was many years after the hautboy-player in the orchestra of the Edin- 
burgh theatre, where his solos were always greatly admired. 



* beuce's address.' 81 

There is a tradition, which I have met with in many places in 
Scotland, that it was Robert Bruce's march at the battle of Bannock- 
burn. This thought, in my yesternight's evening walk, warmed me 
to a pitch of enthusiasm on the theme of liberty and independence, 
which I threw into a kind of Scottish ode, fitted to the air, that one 
might suppose to be the gallant royal Scot's address to his heroic 
followers on that eventful morning. 

BRUCE TO HIS MEN AT BANNOCKBURN. 

Tune— Hey, tuttie taitie. 

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, 
Welcome to your gory bed, 
Or to victory ! 

Now's the day, and now's the hour; 
See the front o' battle lour : 
See approach proud Edward's power — 
Chains and slavery ! 

Wha will be a traitor knave ? 
Wha can fill a coward's grave ? 
Wha sae base as be a slave ? 

Let him turn and flee I 

Wha for Scotland's king and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw, 
Freeman stand, or freeman fa', 
Let him follow me ! 

By oppression's woes and pains ! 
By your son& in servile chains ! 
We will drain our dearest veins, 

But they shall be free ! 

Lay the proud usurpers low ! 
Tyrants fall in every foe ! 
Liberty 's in every blow ! — 
Let us do or die ! 

So may God ever defend the cause of truth and liberty, as He 
did that day ! Amen. 

P.S. — I shewed the air to IMpani, who was highly pleased with 
it, and begged me to make sof^erses for it ; but I had no idea of 
giving myself any trouble on the subject, till the accidental recollec- 
tion of that glorious struggle for freedom, associated with the 
glowing ideas of some other struggles of the same nature, not quite 
bo ancient, roused my rhyming mania. Clarke's set of the tune, with 
his bass, you will find in the Museum, though I am afraid that tha 
air is not what will entitle it to a place in your elegant selection. 



32 LIFE AND WOEKS OF BURNS. 

So the magnificent ode of ' Bruce to his Men ' sprang partly from 
the inspiration afforded by the success of the French in beating 
back the arrogant enemies of their republic ! According to Mr 
Syme, in his letter on the Galloway excursion of July, Burns Avas 
engaged in the composition of this ode while riding in the storm 
from Kenmure to Gatehouse, and when passing on the second 
morning thereafter on his way from Kirkcudbright to Dumfries. 
Mr Syme adds, that the poet presented him with a copy of the 
poem next day, along with a second one for Mr Dalzell. There 
is a discrepancy here, which can only be cleared up by supposing 
that Mr Syme, writing at the distance of some years, had mis- 
applied circumstances to dates, or been misled by his imagination, 
The discrepancy had been observed by Dr Currie ; but he unfor- 
tunately adopted a way of overcoming the difficulty little credit- 
able to himself, for he altered the expression ' my yesternight's 
evening walk ' into ' my solitary wanderings ' — a vitiation of the 
original letter, which has only been of late detected. I do not 
indeed see in Burns's letter conclusive proof that the composition 
was not commenced or thought of during the Galloway excursion, 
for a person of all desirable fidelity of mind, in relating an 
indifferent matter to a friend, may give it in such an abbreviated 
form, or with such a suppression of particulars, as may amount to 
a kind of misrepresentation. For example — It is not doubted 
that Burns composed Tarn o' Shanter, as has been related, while 
wandering one day by the banks of the Nith, in the autumn of 
1790; yet, on the 22d of January 1791, he says in a letter to 
Alexander Cunningham : ' I have just finished a poem {Tarn o' 
Shanter), which you will receive enclosed.' No one could have 
supposed from this expression that the whole poem had been 
produced at a heat three or four months before, and that only a 
few corrections at most had lately been administered to it by the 
hand of its author. It is impossible, however, to observe in this 
letter of September the expressions that he had thought no more 
of Urbani's request till ' the accidental recollection,' &c. in his 
' yesternight's 'evening walk,' ' warmed ' him ' to a pitch of enthu- 
siasm,' and continue to believe that Burns had given Syme a copy 
the day after the conclusion of their excursion at the beginning 
of the preceding month. And anerror being proved here, it may 
be the more doubted if BurdPwas at all engaged in such a 
subject of poetic meditation during that storm on the wilds of 
Kenmure. 



'behold the hour.' 33 

BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[&pt 1793.] 
I DARESAY, my dear sir, that you will begin to think my corre. 
spondence is persecution. No matter, I can't help it : a ballad is nrj 
hobby-horse, which, though otherwise a simple sort of harmless 
idiotical beast enough, has yet this blessed headstrong property, that 
when once it has fairly made off with a hapless wight, it gets so 
enamoured with the tinkle-gingle, tinkle-gingle of its own bells, that 
it is sure to run poor pilgarlick, the bedlam jockey, quite beyond any 
useful point or post in the common race of men. 

The following song I have composed for Oran Gaoil> the Highland 
air that you tell me in your last you have resolved to give a place to 
in your book. I have this moment finished the song, so you have it 
glowing from the mint. If it suit you, well ! if not, 'tis also well ! 



BEHOLD THE HOUR. 
Tune — Oran Gaoil. 

Behold the hour, the boat arrive ; 

Thou goest, thou darling of my heart ! 
Severed from thee, can I survive ? 

But fate has willed, and we must part. 
I '11 often greet this surging swell, 

Yon distant isle will often hail : 
' E'en here I took the last farewell ; 

There latest marked her vanished sail.' 

Along the solitary shore, 

While flitting sea-fowl round me cry, 
Across the rolling, dashing roar, 

I '11 westward turn my wistful eye : 
Happy thou Indian grove, I '11 say, 

Where now my Nancy's path may be ! 
While through thy sweets she loves to stray, 

Oh, tell me, does she muse on me ? 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Edinburgh, 5th Sept. 179* 
I believe it is generally allowed that the greatest modesty is the 
sure attendant of the greatest merit. While you are sending me 
verses that even Shakspeare might be proud to own, you speak of 
them as if they Avere ordinary productions ! Your heroic ode is to 
me the noblest composition of the kind in the Scottish language. I 



34 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

happened to dine yesterday with a party of your friends, to whom T 
read it. They were all charmed with it; entreated me to find out a 
suitable air for it, and reprobated the idea of giving it a tune so totally 
devoid of interest or grandeur as Hey, tuttie taitie, Assuredly your 
partiality for this tune must arise from the ideas associated in your 
mind by the tradition concerning it, for I never heard any person, and 
I have conversed again and again with the greatest enthusiasts for 
Scottish airs — I say, I never heard any one speak of it as wDrthy 
of notice. 

I have been running over the whole hundred airs, of which I lately 
sent you the list ; and I think Lewie Gordon is most happily adapted to 
your ode ; at least with a very slight variation of the fourth line, which 
I shall presently submit to you. There is in Lewie Gordon more of 
the grand than the plaintive, particularly when it is sung with a 
degree of spirit, which your words would oblige the singer to give it. 
I would have no scruple about substituting your ode in the room of 
Lewie Gordon, which has neither the interest, the grandeur, nor the 
poetry, that characterise your verses. Now, the variation I have to 
suggest upon the last line of each verse — the only line too short for 
the air — is as follows : 

Verse 1st, Or to glorious victory. 

2d, Chains — chains and slavery. 
3d, Let him, let him turn and flee. 
4th, Let him bravely follow me. 
5th, But they shall, they shall be free. 
6th, Let us, let us do or die ! 

If you connect each line with its own verse, I do not think you 
will find that either the sentiment or the expression loses any of its 
energy. The only line which I dislike in the whole of the song is, 
' Welcome to your gory bed.' Would not another word be preferable 
to ' welcome ?' In your next, I will expect to be informed whether 
you agree to what I have proposed. The little alterations I submit 
with the greatest deference. 

The beauty of the verses you have made for Oran Gaoil will insure 
celebrity to the air. 

Mr Thomson is here unfortunate in his criticism, particularly as 
to the choice of an air for Bruce's Address. Lewie Gordon is a 
tame melody, quite unsuited for such a heroic outburst. Besides, 
the necessity of inserting expletive syllables in each verse to make 
it suit that air, is insufferable. Mr Thomson carried his point 
against the better sense of Burns for the time ; but the public in a 
few years reversed the judgment, and Hey, tuttie taitie was united 
to the song for ever. 



OBSERVATIONS ON A LIST OF SONGS. 35 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

Sept. 179. 
I have received your list, my dear sir, and here go my observa 
tions on it. 1 

Down the Burn, Davie — I have this moment tried an alteration, 
leaving out the last half of the third stanza, and the first half of the 
last stanza; thus : 

As down the burn they took their way, 

And through the flowery dale ; 
His cheek to hers he aft did lay, 

And love was aye the tale. 

With ' Mary, when shall we return, 

Sic pleasure to renew % ' 
Quoth Mary : ' Love, I like the burn, 

And aye shall follow you.' 2 

Through the Wood, Laddie — I am decidedly of opinion that both in 
this, and There 'II never be Peace till Jamie comes Hame, the second or 
high part of the tune being a repetition of the first part an octave 
higher, is only for instrumental music, and would be much better 
omitted in singing. 

Cowden-hnowes — Remember in your index, that the song in pure 
English to this tune, beginning — 

* When summer comes, the swains on Tweed,' 

is the production of Crawford. Robert was his Christian name. 

Laddie, lie near me, must lie by me for some time. I do not 
know the air ; and until I am complete master of a tune, in my own 
singing (such as it is), I can never compose for it. My way is : I 
consider the poetic sentiment correspondent to my idea of the musical 
expression ; then choose my theme; begin one stanza: when that is 
composed, which is generally the most difficult part of the business, 
I walk out, sit down now and then, look out for objects in nature 
around me that are in unison and harmony with the cogitations of 
my fancy, and workings of my bosom ; humming every now and then 
the air with the verses I have framed. When I feel my Muse 
beginning to jade, I retire to the solitary fireside of my study, and 
there commit my effusions to paper ; swinging at intervals on the 

1 Mr Thomson's list of songs for his publication. In his remarks, the bard proceeds 
in order, and goes through the whole ; but on many of them he merely signifies his 
approbation. All his remarks of any importance are presented to the reader. — 
Currib. 

2 This alteration Mr Thomson has adopted (or at least intended to adopt), instead 
of the last stanza of the original song, which is objectionable in point of delicacy.—* 
Currik. 



36 LIFE AND WOEKS OF BUENS. 

hind-legs of my elbow-chair, by way of calling forth my own critical 
strictures as my pen goes on. Seriously, this, at home, is almost 
invariably my way. 

What cursed egotism ! 

Gill Morice I am for leaving out. It is a plaguy length ; the air 
itself is never sung ; and its place can well be supplied by one or two 
songs for fine airs that are not in your list — for instance, Craigiebum 
Wood and Roy's Wife. The first, beside its intrinsic merit, has 
novelty ; and the last has high merit, as well as great celebrity. I 
have the original words of a song for the last air, in the handwriting 
of the lady who composed it ; and they are superior to any edition 
of the song which the public has yet seen. 

Highland Laddie — The old set will please a mere Scotch ear best; 
and the new an Italianised one. There is a third, and what Oswald 
calls the old Highland Laddie, which pleases me more than either of 
them. It is sometimes called Ginglin Johnnie; it being the air of an 
old humorous tawdry song of that name. You will find it in the 
Museum, / hae been at Grookieden, &c. I would advise you, in this 
musical quandary, to offer up your prayers to the Muses for inspiring 
direction ; and in the meantime, waiting for this direction, bestow a 
libation to Bacchus ; and there is not a doubt but you will hit on a 
judicious choice. Probatum est. 

Auld Sir Simon I must beg you to leave out, and put in its place 
The Quaker's Wife. 

Blithe hae I been o'er the Hill, is one of the finest songs ever I made 
in my life, and, besides, is composed on a young lady, positively the 
most beautiful, lovely woman in the world. As I purpose giving you 
the names and designations of all my heroines, to appear in some 
future edition of your work, perhaps half a century hence, you must 
certainly include The bonniest Lass in cC the Warld in your collection. 

Dainty Davie I have heard sung nineteen thousand, nine hundred, 
and ninety-nine times, and always with the chorus to the low part of 
the tune ; and nothing has surprised me so much as your opinion on 
this subject. If it will not suit as I proposed, we will lay two of the 
stanzas together, and then make the chorus follow. 

Fee him, Father — I enclose you Fraser's set of this tune when he 
plays it slow : in fact, he makes it the language of despair. I shall 
here give you two stanzas, in that style, merely to try if it will be 
any improvement. Were it possible, in singing, to give it half the 
pathos which Fraser gives it in playing, it would make an admirably 
pathetic song. 1 I do not give these verses for any merit they have. 
I composed them at the time in which ' Patie Allan's mither died — 
that was, about the back o' midnight,' and by the lee-side of a bowl 
of punch, which bad overset every mortal in company except the 
hautbois and the Muse. 

1 1 well recollect, about the year 1824, hearing Fraser play Fee him, father, on his 
benefit night, in the Edinburgh theatre, ' in the manner in which he had played it 
to Burns ' It was .istened to with breathless attention, as if the house had felt 
it to be a medium of communion with the spirit of the departed bard. 



A FRAGMENT — < WHERE ARE THE JOYS,' &C 37 



THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER. 

Tune— Fee him, Father. 

Thou hast left me ever, Jamie ! thou hast left me ever ; 
Thou hast left me ever, Jamie ! thou hast left me ever : 
Aften hast thou vowed that death only should us sever ; 
Now thou'st left thy lass for aye — I maun see thee never, Jamie, 
I'll see thee never. 

Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie S thou hast me forsaken ; 
Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie ! thou hast me forsaken : 
Thou canst love anither jo, while my heart is breaking ; 
Soon my weary een I'll close — never mair to waken, Jamie, 
Ne'er mair to waken ! l 

Jockie and Jenny I would discard, and in its place would put 
There's nae Luck about the House, which has a very pleasant air, and 
which is positively the finest love-ballad in that style in the Scottish, 
or perhaps in any other language. When she came ben she bobbit, as 
an air, is more beautiful than either, and in the andante way would 
unite with a charming sentimental ballad. 

Saw ye my Father ? is one of my greatest favourites. The evening 
before last, I wandered out, and began a tender song, in what I think 
is its native style. I must premise, that the old way, and the way 
to give most effect, is to have no starting -note, as the fiddlers call 
it, but to burst at once into the pathos. Every country girl sings 
Saw ye my Father ? &c. 

My song is but just begun; and I should like, before I proceed, 
to know your opinion of it. I have sprinkled it with the Scottish 
dialect, but it may be easily turned into correct English. 



FRAGMENT. 
Tune— Saw ye my Father? 

Where are the joys I hae met in the morning, 

That danced to the lark's early sang? 
Where is the peace that awaited my wandering, 

At e'enin' the wild woods amang ? 

Nae mair a-winding the course o' yon river, 

And marking sweet flowerets sae fair ; 
Nae mair I trace the light footsteps o' pleasure, 

But sorrow and sad sighing care. 

1 It is surprising that Burns should have thought it necessary to substitute new 
verses for the old song to this air, which is one of the most exquisite effusions 
of genuine natural sentiment in the whole range of Scottish lyrical poetry. It? 
raerit is now fully appreciated, while P.urns's subbtitnty song is scarcely ever sung 



38 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Is it that simmer's forsaken our valleys, 

And grim, surly winter is near ? 
No, no ! the bees humming round the gay roses 

Proclaim it the pride o' the year. 

Fain wad I hide what I fear to discover, 

Yet lang, lang too well I hae known; 
A' that has caused the wreck in my bosom 

Is Jenny, fair Jenny, alone. 1 

Todlin Hame. — Urbani mentioned an idea of his, which has long 
been mine, that this air is highly susceptible of pathos : accordingly, 
you will soon hear him at your concert try it to a song of mine 
in the Museum, Ye Banks and Braes o' bonnie Doon. One song 
more, and I have done: Auld Lang Syne. The air is but mediocre; 
but the following song, the old song of the olden times, and which 
has never been in print, nor even in manuscript, until I took it 
down from an old man's singing, is enough to recommend any air : — 

AULD LANG SYNE. 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 

And never brought to mind ? 
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 

And days o' lang syne % 

CHORUS. 

For auld lang syne, my dear, 

For auld lang syne, 
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, 

For auld lang syne ! 

We twa hae run about the braes, 

And pu'd the gowans fine ; 
But we've wandered mony a weary foot, 

Sin' auld lang syne. 

We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, 

Frae mornin' sun till dine ; 
But seas between us braid hae roared, 

Sin' auld lang syne. 

And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, 

And gie's a hand o' thine; 
And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught, 

For auld lang syne. 
And surely ye '11 be your pint-stoup, 

And surely I'll be mine ; 
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet 

For auld lang syne. 

1 In this case also, the old song, though objectionable in subject, has kept ita 

prourHi arrninst Hums'?: effort to supplant it. 



BANNOCKBURN. 39 

Now, I suppose, I have tired your patience fairly. You must, 
after all is over, have a number of ballads, properly so called. Gill 
Morice, Tranent Muir, Macpherson's Farewell, Battle of Sheriff- 
muir, or, We ran and they ran (I know the author of this charming 
ballad, and his history), Hardihnute, Barbara Allan (I can furnish a 
finer set of this tune than any that has yet appeared) ; and besides, 
do you know that I really have the old tune to which The Cherry 
and the Slae was sung, and which is mentioned as a well-known air 
in Scotland's Complaint — a book published before poor Mary's days % 1 
It was then called, The Banks o' Helicon; an old poem, which 
Pinkerton has brought to light. You will see all this in Tytler'a 
History of Scottish Music. The tune, to a learned ear, may have no 
great merit; but it is a great curiosity. I have a good many 
original things of this kind. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



[8th] September 1793. 
I AM happy, my dear sir, that my ode pleases you so much. Your 
idea, ' honour's bed,' is, though a beautiful, a hackneyed idea; 2 so, if 
you please, we will let the line stand as it is. I have altered the 
song as follows : — 



BANNOCKBURN. 

ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. 

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; 
Welcome to your gory bed ! 
Or to glorious victory ! 

Now's the day, and now's the hour; 
See the front o' battle lour : 
See approach proud Edward's power — 
Edward ! chains and slavery J 

1 The tune here alluded to hy Burns, and which was inserted in the fifth volume 
of Johnson, in connection with the Cherry and the Slae, was obtained by Mr Ritson 
from Edward Williams, a Welshman, who, it is thought, had probably noted it 
down from memory. The true air of the Banks of Helicon, different from the above, 
was subsequently discovered in a manuscript now in the Advocates' Library, and 
has been printed in Stenhouse's notes to Johnson's Museum. 

2 From this passage it appears that Mr Thomson, in his letter of the 5th instant, 
had objected not merely to the word ' welcome,' in one of the lines of tbe ode, but 
to a word of more importance ; or perhaps the objection has altogether been 
misprinted or transplanted. Many such liberties appear to have been taken by 
the original editor of this correspondence. 



40 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Wha will be a traitor knave? 
Wha can fill a coward's grave ? 
Wha sae base as be a slave ? 

Traitor ! coward ! turn, and flee ! 

Wha for Scotland's king and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw 
Freeman stand, or freeman fa', 
Sodger ! hero ! on wi' me ! 

By oppression's woes and pains ! 
By your sons in servile chains! 
We will drain our dearest veins, 
But they shall be — shall be free! 

Lay the proud usurpers low ! 
Tyrants fall in every foe! 
Liberty 's in every blow ! 
Forward ! let us do or die ! 

jy.B. — I have borrowed the last stanza from the common stall 
edition of Wallace — 



* A false usurper sinks in every foe, 
And liberty returns with every blow.' 



A couplet worthy of Homer. Yesterday, you had enough of my 
correspondence. The post goes, and my head, aches miserably. One 
comfort ! I suffer so much just now in this world, for last night's 
joviality, that I shall escape scot-free for it in the world to come. 
Amen! 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

nth September 1793. 

A thousand thanks to you, my dear sir, for your observations on 
the list of my songs. I am happy to find your ideas so much in 
unison with my own, respecting the generality of the airs, as well 
as the verses. About some of them we differ, but there is no dis- 
puting about hobby-horses. I shall not fail to profit by the remarks 
you make, and to reconsider the whole with attention. 

Dainty Davie must be sung two stanzas together, and then the 
chorus ; 'tis the proper way. I agree with you, that there may be 
something of pathos, or tenderness at least, in the air of Fee him f 
Father, when performed with feeling; but a tender cast may be 
given almost to any lively air, if you sing it very slowly, expressively, 
and with serious words. I am, however, clearly and invariably for 
retaining the cheerful tunes joined to their own humorous verses, 



REVISION OF l BANNOCKBURN.' 41 

wherever the verses are passable. But the sweet song for Fee 7iim f 
Father, which you began about the back of midnight, I will publish as 
an additional one. Mr James Balfour, the king of good-fellows, and 
the best singer of the lively Scottish ballads that ever existed, has 
charmed thousands of companies with Fee him, Father, and with 
Todlin Home also, to the old words, which never should be disunited 
from either of these airs. 1 Some bacchanals I would wish to discard. 
Fy ! leVs d to the Bridal, for instance, is so coarse and vulgar, that I 
think it fit only to be sung in a company of drunken colliers ; and 
Saw ye my Father ? appears to me both indelicate and silly. 

One word more with regard to your heroic ode. I think, with 
great deference to the poet, that a prudent general would avoid 
saying anything to his soldiers which might tend to make death 
more frightful than it is. ' Gory ' presents a disagreeable image to the 
mind ; and to tell them, ' Welcome to your gory bed,' seems rather 
a discouraging address, notwithstanding the alternative which follows. 
I have shewn the song to three friends of excellent taste, and each 
of them objected to this line, which emboldens me to use the freedom 
of bringing it again under your notice. I would suggest — 

Now prepare for honour's bed, 
Or for glorious victory ! 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[\StK] September 179J. 

'Who shall decide when doctors disagree?' My ode pleases me 
so much, that I cannot alter it. Your proposed alterations would, in 
my opinion, make it tame. I am exceedingly obliged to you for 
putting me on reconsidering it, as I think I have much improved it. 
Instead of 'sodger! hero!' I will have it 'Caledonian! on wi' me!' 

I have scrutinised it over and over ; and to the world, some way 
or other, it shall go as it is. At the same time, it will not in the 
least hurt me, should you leave it out altogether, and adhere to your 
first intention of adopting Logan's verses. 2 

1 See an account of Mr Balfour in the editor's Traditions of Edinburgh. 

2 ' The reader will have observed, that Burns adopted the alterations proposed by 
his friend and correspondent in former instances, with great readiness ; perhaps, 
indeed, on all indifferent occasions. In the present instance, however, he rejected 
them, though repeatedly urged with determined resolution. With every respect for 
the judgment of Mr Thomson and his friends, we may be satisfied that he did so. 
He who, in preparing for an engagement, attempts to withdraw his imagination 
from images of death, will probably have but imperfect success, and is not fitted to 
6tand in the ranks of battle, where the liberties of a kingdom are at issue. Of such 
men, the conquerors of Bannockburn were not composed. Hruce's troops were 
inured to war, and familiar with all its sufferings and dangers. On the eve of that 
memorable day, their spirits were, without doubt, wound up to a pitch of enthusiasm 
suited to the occasion; a pitch of enthusiasm, at which danger becomes attractive, 
and the most terrific forms of death are no longer terrible. Such a strain of senti- 
ment this heroic " welcome" may be supposed well calculated to elevate— to raise 
their hearts high above fear, and to nerve their arms to the utmost pitch of mortal 



42 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

I have finished my song to Saw ye my Father? and in English, tjs 
you will see. That there is a syllable too much for the expression 
of the air, is true ; but, allow me to say, that the mere dividing of a 
dotted crotchet into a crotchet and a quaver, is not a great matter : 
however, in that I have no pretensions to cope in judgment with 
you. Of the poetry, I speak with confidence; but the music is a 
business where I hint my ideas with the utmost diffidence. 

The old verses have merit, though unequal, and are popular. My 
advice is to set the air to the old words, and let mine follow as 
English verses. Here they ore : — 



WHERE ARE THE JOYS? 

Tune— Saw ye my Father? 

Where are the joys I have met in the morning, 

That danced to the lark's early song ? 
Where is the peace that awaited my wandering, 
. At evening the wild-woods among? 

No more a-winding the course of yon river, 
And marking sweet flowerets so fair ; 

No more I trace the light footsteps of pleasure, 
But sorrow and sad sighing care. 

Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys, 

And grim, surly winter is near ? 
No, no ! the bees humming round the gay roses, 

Proclaim it the pride of the year. 



Yet long, long too well have I known, 
All that has caused this wreck in my bosom 
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone. 

exertion. These observations might he illustrated and supported hy a reference to 
the martial poetry of all nations, from the spirit-stirring strains of Tyrtaeus, to the 
war-song of General Wolfe. Mr Thomson's observation, that ' ' ' Welcome to your gory 
bed' is a discouraging address," seems not sufficiently considered. Perhaps, indeed, 
it may be admitted, that the term gory is somewhat objectionable, not on account 
of its presenting a frightful but a disagreeable image to the mind. But a great poet, 
uttering his conceptions on an interesting occasion, seeks always to present a 
picture that is vivid, and is uniformly disposed to sacrifice the delicacies of taste on 
the altar of the imagination. And it is the privilege of superior genius, by pro- 
ducing a new association, to elevate expressions that were originally low, and thus 
to triumph over the deficiencies of language. In how many instances might this 
be exemplified from the works of our immortal Shakspeare ! — 

"Who would fardels bear, 
To groan and sweat under a weary life— 
When he himself might his quietus make 
With a bare bodkin ? " 

It were easy to enlarge, but to suggest such reflections is probably sufficient.*— 
Currie. 



* DELUDED SWAIN, THE PLEASURE,' &C. 43- 

Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal, 

Not 1 hope dare a comfort bestow: 
Come, then, enamoured and fond of my anguish, 

Enjoyment I'll seek in njy wo. 

Adieu, my dear sir! the post goes, so I shall defer some other 
remarks until more leisure. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

September 1793. 
I have been turning over some volumes of songs, to find verses 
whose measures would suit the airs for which you have allotted me 
to find English songs. 

[The poet here transcribed a piece of his own, not sufficiently decorous for 
publication, besides a number of pieces from old song-books, in a few instances 
touched up and improved by himself.] 

For Muirland Willie, you have, in Ramsay's Tea-table, an excellent 
song, beginning, A h, why those Tears in Nelly's eyes? As for Tlie 
Collier's Dochter, take the following old bacchanal : — 

DELUDED SWAIN, THE PLEASURE. 

Tune— The Collier's Bonnie Lassie. 

Deluded swain, the pleasure 

The fickle Fair can give thee, 
Is but a fairy treasure — 

Thy hopes will soon deceive thee. 

The billows on the ocean, 

The breezes idly roaming, 
The clouds' uncertain motion — 

They are but types of woman. 

Oh ! art thou not ashamed 

To dote upon a feature ? 
If man thou wouldst be named, 

Despise the silly creature. 
Go, find an honest fellow; 

Good claret set before thee : 
Hold on till thou art mellow, 

And then to bed in glory. 

The faulty line in Logan Water I mend thus : 
How can your flinty hearts enjoy 
The widow's tears, the orphan's cry ? 

The song otherwise will pass. As to M'Gregoria Itua-Jiuth, you 

1 So in manuscript— hitherto always printed Nor. 



44 LIFE A^r> WORKS OF BURNS. 

■will see a song of mine to it, with a set of the air superior to yours, 
in the Museum, vol. ii. p. 181. The song begins, 
' Raving winds around her blowing.' 

Your Irish airs are pretty, but they are downright Irish. If they 
were like the Banks of Banna, for instance, though really Irish, yet 
in the Scottish taste, you might adopt them. Since you are so fond 
of Irish music, what say you to twenty-five of them in an additional 
number ? We could easily find this quantity of charming airs : I 
will take care that you shall not want songs ; and I assure you, that 
you would find it the most saleable of the whole. If you do not 
approve of Boy's Wife, for the music's sake, we shall not insert it. 
Deil tak the Wars is a charming song ; so is Saw ye my Peggy ? There 's 
nae Luck about the House well deserves a place. I cannot say that 
O'er the Hills and far awa strikes me as equal to your selection. 
This is no my ain House is a great favourite air of mine ; and if you 
will send me your set of it, I will task my Muse to her highest effort. 
What is your opinion of / hae laid a Herrin' in saut ? I like it much. 
Your Jacobite airs are pretty, and there are many others of the same 
kind pretty ; but you have not room for them. You cannot, I think, 
insert Fy! let's a' to the Bridal to any other words than its own. 

What pleases me, as simple and naive, disgusts you as ludicrous 
and low. For this reason, Fy I gie me my Coggie, Sirs; Fy! let's a' 
to the Bridal, with several others of that cast, are to me highly 
pleasing ; while, Saw ye my Father, or saw ye my Mother ? delights 
me with its descriptive simple pathos. Thus my song, Ken ye what 
Meg o' the Mill has gotten ? pleases myself so much, that I cannot try 
my hand at another song to the air ; so I shall not attempt it. I 
know you will laugh at all this ; but ' ilka man wears his belt his 
ain gait.' 

A public library had been established by subscription among 
the citizens of Dumfries in September 1792, and Burns, ever 
eager about books, had been from the first one of its supporters. 
Before it was a week old, he had presented to it a copy of his 
poems. He does not seem to have been a regularly admitted 
member till 5th March 1793, when l the committee, by a great 
majority, resolved to offer to Mr Robert Burns a share in the 
library, free of any admission-money [10s. 6d.] and the quarterly 
contributions [2s. 6d.j to this date, out of respect and esteem for 
his abilities as a literary man ; and they directed the secretary to 
make this known to Mr Burns as soon as possible, that the 
application which they understood he was about to make in the 
ordinary way might be anticipated.' This is a pleasing testimony 
to Burns as a poet, but still more so to Burns as a citizen and 
member of society. His name appears in September as a member 
of committee — an honour assigned by vote of the members. 

On the 30th of this month, the liberal poet bestowed four books 



FEARS ABOUT AN INSCRIPTION. 45 

upon the library — namely, Humphry Clinker, Julia de Roubigne, 
Knox's History of the Reformation, and Delolme on the British 
Constitution. The present intelligent librarian, Mr M'Robert, 
reports, respecting the last-mentioned work, a curious anecdote, 
which he learned directly from the late Provost Thomson of 
Dumfries. Early in the morning after Delolme had been pre- 
sented, Burns came to Mr Thomson's bedside before he was up, 
anxiously desiring to see the volume, as he feared he had written 
something upon it ' which might bring him into trouble.' On the 
volume being shewn to him, he looked at the inscription which 
he had written upon it the previous night, and, having procured 
some paste, he pasted over it the fly-leaf in such a way as 
completely to conceal it. 

The gentleman who has been good enough to communicate 
these particulars, adds : — ' I have seen the volume, which is the 
edition of 1790, neatly bound, with a portrait of the author at the 
beginning. Some stains of ink shine through the paper, indicating 
that there is something written on the back of the engraving ; but 
the fly-leaf being pasted down upon it, there is nothing legible. 
On holding the leaf up to the light, however, I distinctly read, in 
the undoubted manuscript of the poet, the following words : — 

" Mr Burns presents this book to the Library, and begs they 
will take it as a creed of British liberty — until they find a 
better. R. B." 

' The words, " until they find a better," are evidently those 
which the poet feared "might bring him into trouble." Probably, 
if the inscription had not been written on the back of the 
engraving, he might have removed it altogether : at all events, 
his anxiety to conceal it shews what trivial circumstances were in 
those days sufficient to constitute a political offence.' Ay, and 
to think of this happening in the same month with the writing of 
Scots, wha hae wi 1 Wallace bled ! 

Fully to appreciate the feelings of alarm under which Burns 
acted on this occasion, it must be kept in view that the trial of 
Mr Thomas Muir for sedition had taken place oj^the 30th of 
August, when, in the evidence against him, appeared that of his 
servant, Ann Fisher, to the effect that he had purchased and 
distributed certain copies of Paine's Rights of Man. The stress 
laid upon that testimony by the crown-counsel had excited much 
remark. It might well appear to a government officer like Burns, 
that his own conduct at such a crisis ought to be in the highest 
degree circumspect. We do not know exactly the time when 
the incident which we are about to relate took place, but it appears 
likely to have been nearly that of Muir's trial. Our poet one day 



46 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

called upon his quondam neighbour, George Haugh, the black- 
smith, and, handing him a copy of Paine's Common Sense and 
Rights of Man, desired him to keep these books for him, as, if 
they were found in his own house, he should be a ruined man. 
Haugh readily accepted the trust, and the books remained in 
possession of his family down to a recent period. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[29tfi] October 1793. 
Your last letter, my dear Thomson, was indeed laden with heavy 
news. Alas, poor Erskine! l The recollection that he was a coadjutor 
in your publication, has till now scared me from writing to you, or 
turning my thoughts on composing for you. 

I am pleased that you are reconciled to the air of the Quaker's 
Wife, though, by the by, an old Highland gentleman, and a deep 
antiquarian, tells me it is a Gaelic air, and known by the name of 
Leiger m' choss. The following verses, I hope, will please you, as an 
English song to the air. 

[The poet here transcribed his song, beginning Thine I am, my faithful Fair, 
already printed in volume iii. p. 106.] 

Your objection to the English song I proposed for John Anderson, 
my jo, is certainly just. The following is by an old acquaintance of 
mine, and I think has merit. The song was never in print, which I 
think is so much in your favour. The more original good poetry 
your collection contains, it certainly has so much the more merit : — 

SONG. — BY GAVIN TURNBULL. 

condescend, dear charming maid, 
My wretched state to view; 

A tender swain to love betrayed, 
And sad despair, by you. 

While here, all melancholy, 

My passion I deplore, 
Yet, urged by stern, resistless fate, 

I love thee more and more. 

1 heard of love, and with disdain 

The urchin's power denied ; 
I laughed at every lover's pain, 
And mocked them when they sighed. 

1 The Honourable A. Erskine, whose melancholy death Mr Thomson had com- 
municated in an excellent letter, which he has suppressed. — Currib. Mr Erskine 
was found (L jwned in the Firth of Forth, with his pockets full of stones. The 
distressing e ent was believed to have been the consequence of a habit of gambling. 



♦ 



LYRICS OF GAVIN TURNBULL. 47 

But how my state is altered ! 

Those happy days are o'er ; 
For all thy unrelenting hate, 

I love thee more and more. 

O yield, illustrious beauty, yield! 

No longer let me mourn ; 
And though victorious in the field, 

Thy captive do not scorn. 

Let generous pity warm thee, 

My wonted peace restore ; 
And, grateful, I shall bless thee still, 

And love thee more and more. 

The following address of Turnbull's to the Nightingale, will suit as 
im English song to the air, There was a Lass, and she was Fair. By 
the by, Turnbull has a great many songs in MS. which I can com- 
mand, if you like his manner. Possibly, as he is an old friend of 
mine, I may be prejudiced in his favour; but I like some of his 
pieces very much. 

THE NIGHTINGALE. 

Thou sweetest minstrel of the grove, 

That ever tried the plaintive strain, 
Awake thy tender tale of love, 

And soothe a poor forsaken swain. 

For though the Muses deign to aid, 

And teach him smoothly to complain ; 
Yet Delia, charming, cruel maid, 

Is deaf to her forsaken swain. 

All day, with fashion's gaudy sons, 

In sport she wanders o'er the plain : 
Their tales approve, and still she shunB 

The notes of her forsaken swain. 

"When evening shades obscure the sky, 

And bring the solemn hours again, 
Begin, sweet bird, thy melody, 

And soothe a poor forsaken swain. 

I shall just transcribe another of Turnbull's, which would go 
charmingly to Lewie Gordon. 



Let me wander where I will, 
By shady wood, or winding rill ; 
Where the sweetest May-born flowerg 
Paint the meadows, deck the bowers; 
Where the linnet's early song 
Echoes sweet the woods among: 
Let me wander where I will, 
Laura haunts my fancy still. 



48 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

If at rosy dawn I choose 

To indulge the smiling muse ; 

If I court some cool retreat, 

To avoid the noontide heat; 

If beneath the moon's pale ray, 

Through unfrequented wilds I stray: 

Let me wander where I will, 

Laura haunts my fancy still. 

When at night the drowsy god 
Waves his sleep-compelling rod, 
And to fancy's wakeful eyes 
Bids celestial visions rise ; 
While with boundless joy I rove 
Through the fairy land of love : 
Let me wander where I will, 
Laura haunts my fancy still. 

The rest of your letter I shall answer at some other opportunity. 

Gavin Turnbull was the author of a now forgotten volume, 
published at Glasgow in 1788, under the title of Poetical Essays. 
Burns's overestimate of his merits must be obvious from the 
pieces selected. Our bard had in this respect a resemblance 
to Sir Walter Scott, so remarkable for the generosity of his 
judgments on the works of his friends. 

IMPROMPTU 

ON MRS RIDDEL'S BIRTHDAY, 4TH NOVEMBER 1793. 

Old Winter, with his frosty beard, 
Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred : 

* "What have I done of all the year, 
To bear this hated doom severe ? 

My cheerless suns no pleasure know ; 
Night's horrid car drags, dreary slow ; 
My dismal months no joys are crowning, 
But spleeny English, hanging, drowning. • 

' Now, Jove, for once be mighty civil, 

To counterbalance all this evil ; 

Give me, and I've no more to say, 

Give me Maria's natal-day ! 

That brilliant gift shall so enrich me, 

Spring, summer, autumn, cannot match me.' 

* 'Tis done ! ' says Jove ; so ends my story, 
And Winter once rejoiced in glory. 

Though we have not many professed impromptus of Burns, it 
is certain that he shewed a remarkable readiness in producing 



IMPROMPTUS. 49 

such trifles. His surviving companions could rslate many- 
instances of his giving forth epigrams and (what was a favourite 
form of verse with him) epitaphs upon individuals, as well as 
graces before and after meat, almost instantaneously after being 
requested to do so. It seemed to them something like a miracle. 
Most of the versicles published under these names were produced 
in this unpremeditated manner, and with no design beyond the 
raising of a laugh for the moment. It is scarcely just, there- 
fore, to criticise them as a department of his works. Many 
others, we are assured, have been forgotten, or rest only in the 
memory of a few of those few who remain to describe Burns from 
personal knowledge. 

As an example of his ready powers of versification : A Mr 
Ladyman, an English commercial traveller, alighting one day at 
Brownhill Inn, in Dumfriesshire, found that he should have to 
dine with a company in which was Kobert Burns. The dinner, at 
which the landlord, Bacon, presided, passed off well, the principal 
dish being the well-known namesake of the host, who, it may be 
remarked, appeared to be looked on as something of a superfluity 
at his own table. The man had retired for a few minutes to see 
after a fresh supply of toddy, when some one called upon Burns 
to give the young Englishman some proof of his being really 
Burns the poet, by composing some verses on the spur of the 
moment ; and it was with hardly an interval for reflection that the 
bard pronounced as follows : — ■ 

At Brownhill we always get dainty good cheer, 
And plenty of bacon each day in the year ; 
We've all things that's nice, and mostly in season, 
But why always Bacon — come, give me a reason? 1 

Another instance : Nicol and Masterton had come to spend a 
week of their vacation at Dumfries, for the purpose of enjoying 
the society of their friend Burns. The scene of the Peck o 1 Maut 
was renewed every evening in the Globe Tavern. Excepting, 
indeed, that Burns attended to his duty in the forenoon, and that 
Willie and Allan took a rattling walk before dinner, to give them- 

1 From Mr Ladyman's own report of the incident, in 1824. 

'At the sale of the effects of Mr Bacon, Brownhill Inn, after his death in 1825, 
his snuff-box, heing found to bear the inscription — 

ItOBT. BURNS, 
m OFFICER 

9 OF 

THE EXCISE 

— although only a horn plainly mounted with silver, brought L.5. It was under- 
stood to have been presented by Burns to Bacon, with whom he had spent] 
a merry night.'— Ayrshire Monthly News-Letter, April 5, 1844. 
VOL. IV C 



50 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

selves an appetite, it might be said that the week was one entire 
and perfect chrysolite of merry-making. One day, when they 
were to dine at the Globe, they found, on coming in at three, that 
no dinner had been ordered. As Burns had taken on himself 
this duty, the fault was his, and the other two gentlemen were 
wroth witli him accordingly. 'Just like him,' quoth Mrs Hyslop : 
'ye might hae kent that he's ne'er to lippen to.' 'Well, but 
can we have anything to eat ? You know we must dine some 
how.' Mrs Hyslop, or as Burns called her, Meg, proved pro- 
pitious. There was a tup's-head in the pot for John and herself; 
and, if they pleased, they might have the first of it. 

Now a good tup's-head, with the accompanying trotters — seeing 
that, in the Scottish cuisine, nothing is taken off but the wool — 
is a dish which will amply satisfy six, or even eight persons; 1 so it 
was no contemptible resource for the hungry trio. When it had 
been disposed on the board, ' Burns,' said Nicol, ' we fine you 
for your neglect of arrangements : you give us something new as a 
grace.' Our poet instantly, with appropriate gesture and tone, 
said: 

O Lord, when hunger pinches sore, 
Do thou stand us in need, 

And send us from thy bounteous store, 
A tup or wether head ! Amen. 

They fell to and enjoyed their fare prodigiously, leaving, how- 
ever, a miraculously ample sufficiency for the host and hostess. 
'Now, Burns, we've not done with you. We fine you again. 
Return thanks.' He as promptly said: 

O Lord, since we have feasted thus, 

Which we so little merit, 
Send Meg to take away the flesh, 

And Jock to bring the spirit ! Amen. 2 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

7th November 1793. 
My good Sir — After so long a silence, it gave me peculiar 
pleasure to recognise your well-known hand, for I had begun to be 
apprehensive that all was not well with you. I am happy to find, 
however, that your silence did not proceed from that cause, and that 
you have got among the ballads once more. 

* The editor begs to say, that he here speaks with due caution : he has been 
one of a party of eight persons who dined heartily on a tup's-head with its 
accompanying broth. 

8 From a gentleman who was intimate with Bums at that time. 



' MY SPOUSE NANCY.' 61 

I have to thank you for your English song- to Leiger m* cJioss, 
which I think extremely good, although the colouring is warm. 
Your friend Mr Turnbull's songs have doubtless considerable merit; 
and as you have the command of his manuscripts, I hope you may 
find out some that will answer as English songs, to the airs yet 
unprovided. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

December 1793. 
Tell me how you like the following verses to the tune of My Jo 
Janet?— 

MY SPOUSE NANCY. 

Tune— My Jo Janet. 

'Husband, husband, cease your strife, 

Nor longer idly rave, sir ; 
Though I am your wedded wife, 

Yet I am not your slave, sir.' 

' One of two must still obey, 

Nancy, Nancy ; 
Is it man, or woman, say, 

My spouse, Nancy ?' 

'If 'tis still the lordly word, 

Service and obedience; • 

I'll desert my sovereign lord, 
And so good-by allegiance ! ' 

1 Sad will I be, so bereft, 

Nancy, Nancy ; 
Yet I'll try to make a shiftj 

My spouse, Nancy.' 

1 My poor heart then break it must, 

My last hour I 'm near it : 
When you lay me in the dust, 

Think, think how you will bear it.' 

'I will hope and trust in Heaven, 

Nancy, Nancy ; 
Strength to bear it will be given, 

My spouse, Nancy.' 

1 Well, sir, from the silent dead, 

Still I'll try to daunt you; 
Ever round your midnight bed 

Horrid sprites shall haunt you,' 



5£ LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

'I'll wed another like my dear, 

Nancy, Nancy ; 
Then all hell will fly for fear, 

My spouse, Nancy.' l 



TO JOHN M'MURDO,.ES<i. 

Dumfries, December 1793. 

Sir — It is said that we take the greatest liberties with our greatest 
friends, and I pay myself a very high compliment in the manner in 
which I am going to apply the remark. I have owed you money 
longer than ever I owed it to any man. Here is Ker's account, and 
here are six guineas ; and now, I don't owe a shilling to man — or 

woman either. But for these d dirty, dog-eared little pages, I 

had done myself the honour to have waited on you long ago. Inde- 
pendent of the obligations your hospitality has laid me under, the 
consciousness of your superiority in the rank of man and gentleman, 
of itself was fully as much as I could ever make head against ; but 
to owe you money, too, was more than I could face. 

I think I once mentioned something of a collection of Scots songs 
I .have for some years been making — I send you a perusal of what 
I have got together. I could not conveniently spare them above five 
or six days, and five or six glances of them will probably more than 
suffice jpu. A very few of them are my own. When you are tired 
of them, please leave them with Mr Clint, of the King's Arms. 
There is not another copy of the collection in the world; and I 
should be sorry that any unfortunate negligence should deprive me 
of what has cost me a good deal of pains. E. B. 

It seems far from unlikely that Mr M'Murdo was the friend to 
whom Burns applied for the loan of a few guineas in summer, 
and that, having discharged an account of Mr Ker against that 
gentleman, he was now clearing off the balance of the debt by 
the enclosure spoken of. 

From an early period of his career, Burns had begun to dabble 
in verse conceived in a strain of licentious humour. Into this taste 
he was led by his enthusiastic love of all the forms of his country's 
elder muse. With a strange contradiction to the grave and 
religious character of the Scottish people, they possessed a 
wonderful quantity of indecorous traditionary verse — not of an 
inflammatory character, but simply expressive of a profound sense 

1 Dr Currie here added the song, Wilt thou be my Dearie? It does not appear 
in the original manuscript. The reader will find it afterwards in a different 
conneotion. 



CLANDESTINE POEMS. 53 

of the ludici ous in connection with the sexual affections. 1 Such 
things, usually kept from public view, oozed out in merry com- 
panies such as Burns loved to frequent. Men laughed at them 
for the moment, and, in the sober daylight of next morning, had 
forgotten them. When our poet was particularly struck by any 
free - spoken ditty of the old school, he would scribble it down, 
and transfer it to a commonplace-book. In time, what he thus 
collected, he was led to imitate, apparently for no other object 
than that of amusing such rough good-fellows as himself in their 
moments of conviviality. We see that, in establishing his 
commonplace - book in spring 1787, he designed to commit to it 
a few of his compositions of this class. He afterwards repeated 
copies of them, which he would, with his usual heedlessness, allow 
to pass into the hands of his friends. We now see from the above 
letter to Mr M'Murdo, that he had at length transcribed them into 
a volume, which he would occasionally intrust to the keeping of 
a friend. These facts have been the cause of much reproach to 
Burns; and I do not say that his conduct was excusable. I am, 
nevertheless, convinced that it originated mainly in nothing worse 
than his strong sense of the ludicrous. Of this, I venture to 
say, there could be no doubt entertained by the public, if it were 
allowable to bring the proper evidence into court. It is also to be 
admitted that, to heighten the effect, he was too apt to bring in a 
dash of levity respecting Scriptural characters and incidents — a 
kind of bad taste, however, which was likewise exemplified to his 
hand by the common conversation of his countrymen ; for certain 
it is, that the piety of the old Scotch people did not exclude a very 
considerable share of what may be called an unconscious profanity. 
There is a jocular ballad of Burns, of the kind described, which he 
exhibited to his friends as if designed for the press, with a prose 
note from the publisher : ' Courteous Eeader — The following is 
certainly the production of one of those licentious ungodly (too 
much abounding in this our day) wretches, who take it as a com- 
pliment to be called wicked, provided you allow them to be witty, 
Pity it is, that while so many tar-barrels in the country are empty, 
and so many gibbets untenanted, some example is not made of 

1 ' In Britain, and particularly in reading Scotland, you know that the library 
of the peasant is composed chiefly of such coarse fictions as the Exploit* of George 
Buchanan, the histories of John Cheap the Chapman, Leper the Tailor, Lothian Tom, 
Paddy from Cork, the Creelman's Courtship, Simple John and his Twelve Misfortunes, 
and such like ; all of them saturated with indecency, and forming a library of 
facetiae, which, in spite of the cant of the day about the moral and religious 
character of the country, prove how much the national humour and peculiarities 
of the people have been and still are imbued with coarseness and indelicacy. 

' In Prussia, I am inclined to think that the vulgar taste is different ; at least if 
the selection which I made be taken as a criterion. It is clear that there is far less 
love of the prurient and coarsely humorous about the German people, than among 
either the French or the British.'— Strang's Germany in 1831. 2 vols. 183(3. 



5i LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

these profligates.' Unluckily, Burns's collection of these facetiae, 
including his own essays in the same walk, fell after his death into 
the hands of one of those publishers who would sacrifice the 
highest interests of humanity to put an additional penny into their 
own purses ; and, to the lasting grief of all the friends of our poet, 
they were allowed the honours of the press. The mean-looking 
volume which resulted should be a warning to all honourable men 
of letters against the slightest connection with clandestine litera- 
ture, much more the degradation of contributing to it. It may 
also serve as a curious study to those who take a delight in 
estimating the possible varieties of intellectual mood and of moral 
sensation of which our nature is capable. 

With his usual anxiety to communicate his new compositions to 
his friends, Burns sent copies of Brace's Address to various 
gentlemen of the liberal complexion of politics, whom he thought 
likely to be pleased with such an effusion at such a crisis. The 
three following letters were all employed as enclosures of copies 
of that poem: — 

TO CAPTAIN - 1 

Dumfries, 5th December 1.793. 

Sir — Heated as I was with wine yesternight, I was perhaps 
rather seemingly impertinent in my anxious wish to be honoured 
with your acquaintance. You will forgive it — it was the impulse of 
heartfelt respect. ' He is the father of the Scottish county reform, 
and is a man who does honour to the business, at the same time that 
the business does honour to him,' said my worthy friend Glenriddel 
to somebody by me, who was talking of your coming to this country 
with your corps. ' Then,' I said, ' I have a woman's longing to take 
him by the hand, and say to him : " Sir, I honour you as a man to 
whom the interests of humanity are dear, and as a patriot to whom 
the rights of your country are sacred." ' 

In times like these, sir, when our commoners are barely able, by 
the glimmering of their own twilight understandings, to scrawl a 
frank, and when lords are what gentlemen would be ashamed to be, 
to whom shall a sinking country call for help ? To the independent 
.country gentleman. To him who has too deep a stake in his country 
not to be in earnest for her welfare ; and who, in the honest pride 
of man, can view with equal contempt the insolence of office and 
the allurements of corruption. 

I mentioned to you a Scots ode or song I had lately composed, 
and which, I think, has some merit. Allow me to enclose it. When 
I fall in with you at the theatre, I shall be glad to have your opinion 
of it. Accept of it, sir, as a very humble, but most sincere tribute 
of respect from a man who, dear as he prizes poetic fame, yet holds 
dearer an independent mind. I have the honour to be, R. B. 

1 Not unlikely, Captain Robertson of Lude. 



MRS RIDDEL. 55 



TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN. 

Dumfries, 12th January 1794. 

My Lord — Will your lordship allow me to present you with the 
enclosed little composition of mine, as a small tribute of gratitude 
for the acquaintance with which you have been pleased to honour 
me ? Independent of my enthusiasm as a Scotsman, I have rarely 
met with anything in history which interests my feelings as a man, 
equal with the story of Bannockburn. On the one hand, a cruel, 
but able usurper, leading on the finest army in Europe to extinguish 
the last spark of freedom among a greatly-daring and greatly-injured 
people ; on the other hand, the desperate relics of a gallant nation, 
devoting themselves to rescue their bleeding country, or perish 
with her. 

Liberty ! thou art a prize truly and indeed invaluable, for never 
canst thou be too dearly bought ! 

If my little ode has the honour of your lordship's approbation, it 
will gratify my highest ambition. I have the honour to be, &c. 

R. B. 



TO CAPTAIN MILLER, DALSWINTON. 

Dear Sir — The following ode is on a subject which I know you 
by no means regard with indifference. O Liberty, 

' Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay, 
Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.' 

It does me much good to meet with a man whose honest bosom 
glows with the generous enthusiasm, the heroic daring of liberty, 
that I could not forbear sending you a composition of my own on 
the subject, which I really think is in my best manner. I have the 
honour to be, dear sir, &c. R. B. 

Mrs Riddel had gone to London in the April of 1793, and was 
many months absent. There, during the gay season, ' I did,' 
says she, i so many things that I ought not to have done, and 
left undone so many things that I ought to have done, that at the 
expiration of that time, there was no health left in me.' While 
residing there, she had to part with her husband, suddenly 
called away to attend to his affairs in the West Indies ; and now 
^he lived alone at Woodley Park. To quote her letter to Smellie ] 
(November 1793) : ' I am as chaste and domestic, but perhaps not 
quite so industrious, as Penelope in the absence of her hero. I 
"^emble rather the lilies of the field : 

' Memoirs of William Smellie, by Robert Kerr, 2 vols. 8vo. 



56 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

spin ; " but I read, I write, I sing, and contrive to wile away the 
time as pleasantly as any sociable being like myself can do in a 

state of solitude, and in some measure of mortification I 

shall,' she adds, ' write you more fully in my next, as to the nature 
of my present pursuits, and how I found Burns and the other friends 
here you left behind, for they were not few, I assure you.' In 
such circumstances, she must have of course been unable to 
indulge in the society of Burns as a visitor of her own. She 
seems, however, to have desired his company on the occasion of 
her attending a play at Dumfries. 



TO MRS RIDDEL. 

Dear Madam — I meant to have called on you yesternight, but 
as I edged up to your box-door, the first object which greeted my 
view was one of those lobster-coated puppies, sitting like another 
dragon, guarding the Hesperian fruit. On the conditions and capi- 
tulations you so obligingly offer, I shall certainly make my weather- 
beaten rustic phiz a part of your box-furniture on Tuesday, when we 
may arrange the business of the visit. 

Among the profusion of idle compliments which insidious craft or 
unmeaning folly incessantly offer at your shrine— a shrine, how far 
exalted above such adoration — permit me, were it but for rarity's 
sake, to pay you the honest tribute of a warm heart and an inde- 
pendent mind ; and to assure you that I am, thou most amiable and 
most accomplished of thy sex, with the most respectful esteem and 
fervent regard, thine, &c. K. B. 

A regiment lay at this time in Dumfries, and the officers were, 
as usual, full of the loyalty of the day. Burns, dissenting from 
much that was involved in the loyalty, disliked those by whom it 
was expressed. He also conceived himself to have just reason 
for believing, that it was in consequence of reports from these 
gentlemen that his good affection to the government had been 
called in question by the Board of Excise. Mrs Basil Montagu, 
who, as Miss Benson, was now visiting Miss Craik of Arbigland, 
long after stated to Allan Cunningham, that she was at a ball 
given by the Caledonian Hunt, and had stood up as the partner 
of a young officer, when the whisper of ' There 's Burns ! ' ran 
through the assembly. ' I looked round,' says the lady, ' and 
there he was — his bright dark eyes full upon me. I shall never 
forget that look ; it was one that gave me no pleasure. He soon 
left the meeting. I saw him next day. He would have passed 
me ; but I spoke. I took his arm and said : " Come, you must see 



QUARREL WITH AN OFFICER. 57 

me home." " Gladly, madam," said he ; " but I '11 not go down the 
plainstones, lest I have to share your company with some of those 
epauleUed puppies with whom the street is full." ' 

While burning with this ill-suppressed rage, he was so unfor- 
tunate as one evening to give an officer an advantage over him, 
through an imprudent escape of sentiment. It was in a private 
company, where the wine had, in the fashion of the day, circulated 
much too freely and too long. Burns gave as a toast : ' May our 
success in the present war be equal to the justice of our cause,' 
which Captain ■ — — interpreted as a condemnation of the govern- 
ment, and took up warmly. We learn from a letter written by 
Burns next morning something of what passed on this occasion, 
and see with grief and shame the humiliation to which he was 
reduced by the fears engendered by his sense of dependence : 

TO MR SAMUEL CLARKE, JUN., DUMFRIES. 

Sunday morning. 
Dear Sir — I was, I know, drunk last night, but I am sober this 

morning. From the expressions Capt. made use of to me, had 

I had nobody's welfare to care for but my own, Ave should certainly 
have come, according to the manners of the world, to the necessity 
of murdering one another about the business. The words were such 
as, generally, I believe, end in a brace of pistols ; but I am still 
pleased to think that I did not ruin the peace and welfare of a wife 
and family of children in a drunken squabble. Further, you know 
that the report of certain political opinions being mine, has already 
once before brought me to the brink of destruction. I dread lest last 
night's business may be misrepresented in the same way. You, I 
beg, will take care to prevent it. I tax your wish for Mrs Burns's 
welfare with the task of waiting, as soon as possible, on every 
gentleman who was present, and state this to him, and, as you please, 
shew him this letter. What, after all, was the obnoxious toast ? 
' May our success in the present war be equal to the justice of our 
cause' — a toast that the most outrageous frenzy of loyalty cannot 
object to. I request and beg that this morning you will wait on the 
parties present at the foolish dispute. I shall only add, that I am 

truly sorry that a man who stood so high in my estimation as Mr ■ 

should use me in the manner in which I conceive he has done. 

E.B. 

They who have rightly read the life and character of Burns, 
will be able in some degree to appreciate the heart-throes with 
which he would indite a letter like the above. 

"The evil primarily lay in intemperance. Burns appears at this 
time to have become involved to an unusual degree in society 
where the bottle was pushed too hard. It is to be feared that his 



58 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

friends at "Woodley Park were among those who took the lead in 
thus seducing him from the quiet domestic life in which it was his 
duty, and would otherwise have been his pleasure, to dwell. Mr 
Walter Kiddel had now returned from the West Indies, and at 
such a time it was but natural that he should have his friends 
about him, and the ever brilliant bard amongst the number. But, 
unfortunately, at his board wine flowed in such profusion, that 
the guests were deprived of reason and memory alike. A few 
months after this time, the host was brought to the brink of 
a duel on account of some offensive expressions used by an 
English gentleman named Baker, who, having left Dumfries next 
day, was astonished some time after to receive a hostile visit from 
Mr Riddel, he having not the slightest recollection of anything 
which had taken place. 1 This may in some degree prepare the 
reader to hear of Burns being present at a symposium in Woodley 
Park, where the guests were raised to a pitch of Bacchanalian 
fury. Our bard came into the drawing-room with the rest, and, 
reason being off guard, he was guilty of an unheard-of act of 
rudeness towards the elegant hostess — a woman whom, in his 
ordinary moments, he regarded as a divinity not to be too rashly 
approached. One can imagine frolics of this kind which may 
involve no blame beyond that of the horrible drunkenness from 
which, to appearance, they take their rise; such was the pleading 
of Burns himself next day, if the following be, as we conjecture, 
the letter in which he sought the forgiveness of the lady : — 

TO MRS RIDDEL. 

Madam — I daresay that this is the first epistle you ever received 
from this nether world. I write you from the regions of hell, amid 

the horrors of the . The time and manner of my leaving your 

earth I do not exactly know, as I took my departure in the heat of a 
fever of intoxication, contracted at your too hospitable mansion ; 
but, on my arrival here, I was fairly tried, and sentenced to endure 
the purgatorial tortures of this infernal confine for the space of 
ninety-nine years, eleven months, and twenty-nine days, and all on 
account of the impropriety of my conduct yesternight under your 
roof. Here am I, laid on a bed of pitiless furze, with my aching 
head reclined on a pillow of ever-piercing thorn, while an infernal 
tormentor, wrinkled, and old, and cruel — his name, I think, is Recollec- 
tion — with a whip of scorpions, forbids peace or rest to approach me, 
and keeps anguish eternally awake. Still, madam, if I could in any 
measure be reinstated in the good opinion of the fair circle whom my 
conduct last night so much injured, I think it would be an alleviation 
to my torments. For this reason, I trouble you with this letter. To 

1 Dumfries Journal, August 1794. 



QUARREL WITH MRS RIDDEL. 59 

the men of the company I will make no apology. Your husband, 
who insisted on my drinking more than I chose, has no right to blame 
me ; and the other gentlemen were partakers of my guilt. But to 
you, madam, I have much to apologise. Your good opinion I valued 
as one of the greatest acquisitions I had made on earth, and I was 

truly a beast to forfeit it. There was a Miss I , too, a woman of 

fine sense, gentle and unassuming manners — do make, on my part, a 

miserable wretch's best apology to her. A Mrs G , a 

charming woman, did me the honour to be prejudiced in my favour; 
this makes me hope that I have not outraged her beyond all forgive- 
ness. To all the other ladies, please present my humblest contrition 
for my conduct, and my petition for their gracious pardon. all 
ye powers of decency and decorum ! whisper to them that my errors, 
though great, were involuntary — that an intoxicated man is the vilest 
of beasts — that it was not in my nature to be brutal to any one — that 
to l^e rude to a woman, when in my senses, was impossible with me 

—but 

* * * * * 

Regret! Remorse! Shame! ye three hell-hounds that ever dog 
my steps and bay at my heels, spare me ! spare me ! 

Forgive the offences, and pity the perdition of, madam, your 
humble slave, R. B. 

He seems, at the same time, to have addressed a somewhat 
less abject pleading to Mr Riddel — ■ 

The friend whom wild from wisdom's way, 

The fumes of wine infuriate send 
(Not moony madness more astray) — 

Who but deplores that hapless friend ? 

Mine was th' insensate frenzied part, 

Ah ! why should I such scenes outlive ? — 

Scenes so abhorrent to my heart ! 
'Tis thine to pity and forgive. 

One might have expected that such apologies from Burns would 
have re-established his peace with Mr and Mrs Riddel, more 
especially as the blame lay very much with the gentleman himself. 
But, from whatever considerations, known or unknown, they were 
unforgiving, though the breach did not become quite desperate 
&t first. 



TO MRS RIDDEL. 

Madam — I return your commonplace-book. I have perused it 
with much pleasure, and would have continued my criticisms, but as 
it seems the critic has forfeited your esteem, his strictures must lose 
their value. 



60 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

If it is true that ' offences come only from the heart,' before you I 
am guiltless. To admire, esteem, and prize you, as the most accom- 
plished of women, and the first of friends — if these are crimes, I 
am the most offending thing alive. 

In a face where I used to meet the kind complacency of friendly 
confidence, now to find cold neglect and contemptuous scorn, is a 
wrench that my heart can ill bear. It is, however, some kind of 
miserable good-luck, that while de haut-en-bas rigour may depress an 
unoffending wretch to the ground, it has a tendency to rouse a 
stubborn something in his bosom, which, though it cannot heal the 
wounds of his soul, is at least an opiate to blunt their poignancy. 

With the profoundest respect for your abilities ; the most sincere 
esteem, and ardent regard for your gentle heart and amiable 
manners ; and the most fervent wish and prayer for your welfare, 
peace, and bliss — I have the honour to be, madam, your most 
devoted humble servant, K. B. 



TO THE SAME. 

I have this moment got the song from Syme, and I am sorry to 
see that he has spoilt it a good deal. It shall be a lesson to me how 
I lend him anything again. 

I have sent you Werter, truly happy to have any, the smallest 
opportunity of obliging you. 

'Tis true, madam, I saw you once since I was at Woodsy ; and 
that once froze the very life-blood of my heart. Your reception of 
me was such, that a wretch meeting the eye of his judge, about to 
pronounce sentence of death on him, could only have envied my 
feelings and situation. But I hate the theme, and never more shall 
write or speak on it. 

One thing I shall proudly say, that I can pay Mrs R. a higher 
tribute of esteem, and appreciate her amiable worth more truly, 
than any man Avhom I have seen approach her. R. B. 

Time passed on, and the original breach was probably made 
wider by the tittle-tattle of injudicious friends. Certain it is that 
Burns became deeply incensed against this pair of ancient friends, 
and stooped to express his rancour in strains truly unworthy of 
at least his heart, if not his head. It was in the following 
strain that he lampooned the once admired Maria— a woman whom 
he had described as one of real talent, and who undoubtedly 
was so. 



LAMPOONS ON MRS RIDDEL. 61 



OM A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE. 



How cold is that bosom which folly once fired, 

How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glistened ! 

How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired, 
How dull is that ear which to flattery so listened ! 

If sorrow and anguish their exit await, 

From friendship and dearest affection removed; 

How doubly severer, Eliza, thy fate, 

Thou diedst unwept, as thou livedst unloved. 

Loves, Graces, and Virtues, I call not on you ; 

So shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not a tear : 
But some, all ye offspring of Folly so true, 

And flowers let us cull for Eliza's cold bier. 

We '11 search through the garden for each silly flower, 
We '11 roam through the forest for each idle weed; 

But chiefly the nettle, so typical, shower, 

For none e'er approached her but rued the rash deed. 

.We '11 sculpture the marble, we '11 measure the lay ; 

Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre ; 
There keen Indignation shall dart on her prey, 

Which spurning Contempt shall redeem from his ire. 



THE EPITAPH. 

Here lies, now a prey to insulting neglect, 

What once was a butterfly, gay in life's beam : 

Want only of wisdom denied her respect, 
Want only of goodness denied her esteem. 

At the head of the company of players at this time in Dum- 
fries, was one named Williamson, who, like Burns, had been 
patronised to some extent by the gay Creole. Burns represented 
this individual under the name of Esopus, addressing Maria 
Riddel from a house of correction. 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS, 



EPISTLE FROM ESOPUS TO MARIA. 1 

From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells, 
Where infamy with sad repentance dwells; 2 
Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast, 
And deal from iron hands the spare repast ; 
Where truant 'prentices, yet young in sin, 
Blush at the curious stranger peeping in ; 
Where strumpets, relics of the drunken roar, 
Kesolve to drink, nay, half to whore no more ; 
Where tiny thieves not destined yet to swing, 
Beat hemp for others, riper for the string : 
From these dire scenes my wretched lines I date, 
To tell Maria her Esopus' fate. 

c Alas ! I feel I am no actor here !' 3 ^ 

'Tis real hangmen, real scourges hear ! 

Prepare, Maria, for a horrid tale 

Will turn thy very rouge to deadly pale ; 

Will make thy hair, though erst from gipsy polled, 

By barber woven, and by barber sold, 

Though twisted smooth with Harry's nicest care, 

Like hoary bristles to erect and stare. 

The hero of the mimic scene, no more 

I start in Hamlet, in Othello roar ; 

Or haughty chieftain, 'mid the din of arms, 

In Highland bonnet woo Malvina's charms ; 

While sans culottes stoop up the mountain high, 

And steal from me Maria's prying eye. 

Blest Highland bonnet ! once my proudest dress, 

Now prouder still, Maria's temples press. 

I see her wave thy towering plumes afar, 

And call each coxcomb to the wordy war; 

1 Whether the circumstances alluded to in the following advertisement of Mr 
"Williamson he connected with Burns's whim of representing the writer as in 
confinement, is unknown to us : — 

' Theatre, Dumfries, Jan. 28, 1794. — Mr Williamson, after closing the theatrical 
season, is extremely sorry to feel the necessity of obtruding himself upon the public 
attention; but finding it has been very currently reported (to serve particular pur- 
poses) that the performers have not been paid their stipulated salaries throughout 
a long and a not most successful season, he respectfully begs the public to suspend 
their belief of reports at once so false and so injurious to the credit of the undertaking. 
Mr Williamson pledges himself to prove by the production of his accounts, to the 
satisfaction of any person interested in the inquiry, that there is a considerable 
balance due from the company to the last account of the theatre.'— Dumfries Weekly 
Journal. 

2 In these dread solitudes and awful cells, 
Where heavenly pensive contemplation dwells, &c. 

Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard. 

8 Lyttleton's Prologue to Thomson's Coriolanus, spoken by Mr Quin. 



LAMPOONS ON MRS RIDDEL. 63 

I see her face the first of Ireland's sons, 1 

And even out-Irish his Hibernian bronze ; 

The crafty colonel 2 leaves the tartaned lines 

For other wars, where he a hero shines ; 

The hopeful youth, in Scottish senate bred, 

Who owns a Bushby's heart without the head, 

Comes 'mid a string of coxcombs to display, 

That veni, vidi, vici, is his way ; 

The shrinking bard adown an alley skulks, 

And dreads a meeting worse than "Woolwich hulks j 

Though there, his heresies in church and state 

Might well award him Muir and Palmer's fate : 

Still she undaunted reels and rattles on, 

And dares the public like a noontide sun. 

(What scandal called Maria's jaunty stagger, 

The ricket reeling of a crooked swagger ; 

Whose spleen e'en worse than Burns's venom when 

He dips in gall unmixed his eager pen — 

And pours his vengeance in the burning line, 

Who christened thus Maria's lyre divine ; 

The idiot strum of vanity bemused, 

And even th' abuse of poesy abused; 

Who called her verse a parish workhouse, made 

For motley, foundling fancies, stolen or strayed ?) 

A workhouse ! ah, that sound awakes my woes, 

And pillows on the thorn my racked repose ! 

In durance vile here must I wake and weep, 

And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep ! 

That straw where many a rogue has lain of yore, * 

And vermined gipsies littered heretofore. 

Why Lonsdale thus, thy wrath on vagrants pour ; 

Must earth no rascal save thyself endure ? 

Must thou alone in guilt immortal swell, 

And make a vast monopoly of hell ? 

Thou know'st the virtues cannot hate thee worse ; 

The vices also, must they club their curse ? 

Or must no tiny sin to others fall, 

Because thy guilt's supreme enough for all? 

Maria, send me, too, thy griefs and cares ; 
In all of thee sure thy Esopus shares. 
As thou at all mankind the flag unfurls, 
Who on my fair one satire's vengeance hurls ? 
Who calls thee pert, affected, vain coquette, 
A wit in folly, and a fool in wit ? 

1 Gillespie. 

8 Colonel M'Dowall of Logan, noted as the Lothario of his county during many 
long years. 



64 LIFE AND WORKS OP BUKN3. 

Who says that fool alone is not thy due, 

And quotes thy treacheries to prove it true ? 

Our force united on thy foes we '11 turn, 

And dare the war with all of woman born : 

For who can write and speak as thou and I ? 

My periods that deciphering defy, 

And thy still matchless tongue that conquers all reply. 

Burns alludes in this poem to a family which in his day occupied 
a conspicuous place in Dumfriesshire society. Mr John Bushby 
had risen from the humblest circumstances to wealth and importance, 
first as a solicitor, and afterwards as a banker. There was a vivid 
genius about him which rendered him almost as remarkable a 
person as Burns himself; but it had taken a purely worldly direc- 
tion. Still conducting business in Dumfries, he had established 
himself as a country gentleman at Tinwald Downs, where he saw 
a great deal of company, and among others, often had the poet 
as his guest. It may be mentioned as a somewhat curious, but 
undoubted fact, that Burns did not always dine with the other 
gentlemen assembled in Mr Bushby's halls. There was a middle- 
aged lady, reduced from better circumstances, who exercised the 
duties of a housekeeper. In her room down stairs, Burns would 
dine by his own choice, and finally join the gentlemen in the 
dining-room after the ladies had retired. A lady nearly related 
to Mr Bushby, and who was occasionally in his house at that 
time, remembers that Burns was less a favourite with the 
ladies than the gentlemen. In the drawing-room one evening, 
when "some of the elder ladies spoke censoriously of some points 
in his character, one young lady present ventured a pleading 
in his defence. Our bard, hearing of the circumstance, sent 
her a poetical address a few days afterwards, which she prized 
as a fine effusion of his genius, but which has unfortunately 
been lost. 

A coldness in time took place between Burns and Bushby, and, 
according to our informant's recollection, it proceeded from a very 
trivial circumstance. At dinner one day, the pudding had been 
brought to table very hot. Mr Bushby, who had tasted and 
smarted from it — remembering perhaps the boy's trick in similar 
circumstances, which is the subject of a well-known story — recom- 
mended his wife to admonish the cook not to allow the pudding 
to become so cold in future before being sent up stairs. The 
bard, engaged in conversation, and not attending particularly to 
what was going on, fell into the snare, and in full confidence 
as to the temperature of the pudding, took a large piece into his 
mouth. The pain he expressed, as he desperately endeavoured 



AFFECTING LETTER TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 65 

to swallow the scalding morsel, amused Mr Bushby exceedingly; 
but our poet was far from relishing the joke. Tantaene animis. 
So commenced a dislike on Burns's part towards Mr Bushby, 
which probably other circumstances increased, and of which 
we have hereafter various symptoms. The person, however, 
more particularly alluded to in Esopus's Lines, was Mr Bushby 
Maitland, son of John Bushby, then a young advocate, and 
supposed to be by no means the equal of his father in point 
of intellect. 

The only excuse which can be presented for Burns with respect 
to his pasquinades on Mrs Riddel, lies in the excessive bitterness 
of his OAvn feelings during this winter. His misery is expressed 
in a letter which shews that he had better resources than 
satire, for the soothing of his vexed spirit, so far as soothing 
was possible : — 



TO MR ALEXANDER CUNNINGHAM. 

15th February 1794. 

Canst thou minister to a mind diseased ? Canst thou speak peace 
and rest to a soul tost on a sea of troubles, without one friendly 
star to guide her course, and dreading that the next surge may 
overwhelm her ? Canst thou give to a frame, tremblingly alive as 
the tortures of suspense, the stability and hardihood of the rock 
that braves the blast? If thou canst not do the least of these, 
why wouldst thou disturb me in my miseries with thy inquiries 
after me ? 

For these two months, I have not been able to lift a pen. My 
constitution and frame were, ab origine, blasted with a deep, incur- 
able taint of hypochondria, which poisons my existence. Of late, a 
number of domestic vexations, and some pecuniary share in the ruin 
of these cursed times — losses which, though trifling, were yet what 
I could ill bear — have so irritated me, that my feelings at times 
could only be envied by a reprobate spirit listening to the sentence 
that dooms it to perdition. 

Are you deep in the language of consolation? I have exhausted 
in reflection every topic of comfort. A heart at ease would have 
been charmed with my sentiments and reasonings; but as to myself, 
I was like Judas Iscariot preaching the gospel : he might melt and 
mould the hearts of those around him, but his own kept its native 
incorrigibility. 

Still, there are two great pillars that bear us up amid the wreck 
of misfortune and misery. The one is composed of the different 
modifications of a certain noble, stubborn something in man, known 
by the names of courage, fortitude, magnanimity. The other is 
made up of those feelings and sentiments which, however the 
sceptic may deny them, or the enthusiast disfigure them, are yet, I 



$6 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

am convinced, original and component parts of the human soul] 
those senses of the mind — if I may be allowed the expression — which 
connect us with, and link us to those awful obscure realities — an 
all - powerful and equally beneficent God, and a world to come, 
beyond death and the grave. The first gives the nerve of combat, 
while a ray of hope beams on the field: the last pours the balm of 
comfort into the wounds which time can never cure. 

I do not remember, my dear Cunningham, that you and I ever 
talked on the subject of religion at all. I know some who laugh at 
it, as the trick of the crafty few to lead the undiscerning many ; or, 
at most, as an uncertain obscurity, which mankind can never know 
anything of, and with which they are fools if they give themselves 
much to do. Nor would I quarrel with a man for his irreligion, any 
more than I would for his want of a musical ear. I would regret 
that he was shut out from what, to me and to others, were such 
superlative sources of enjoyment. It is in this point of view, and 
for this reason, that I will deeply imbue the mind of every child of 
mine with religion. If my son should happen to be a man of feeling, 
sentiment, and taste, I shall thus add largely to his enjoyments. Let 
me flatter myself, that this sweet little fellow, who is just now 
running about my desk, will be a man of a melting, ardent, glowing 
heart ; and an imagination delighted with the painter, and rapt with 
the poet. Let me figure him wandering out in a sweet evening, to 
inhale the balmy gales, and enjoy the growing luxuriance of the 
spring ; himself the while in the blooming youth of life. He looks 
abroad on all nature, and through nature up to nature's God. His 
soul, by swift, delighting degrees, is rapt above this sublunary 
sphere, until he can be silent no longer, and bursts out into the 
glorious enthusiasm of Thomson — 

' These, as they change, Almighty Father, these 
Are hut the varied God. The rolling year 
Is full of thee ; ' 

and so on, in all the spirit and ardour of that charming hymn. These 
are no ideal pleasures — they are real delights ; and I ask, what of the 
delights among the sons of men are superior, not to say equal, to 
them ? And they have this precious, vast addition, that conscious 
virtue stamps them for her own, and lays hold on them to bring 
herself into the presence of a witnessing, judging, and approving 
God. R. B. 

'They,' says Mr Lockhart, 'who have been told that Burns 
was ever a degraded being — who have permitted themselves to 
believe that his only consolations were those of " the opiate guilt 
applies to grief," will do well to pause over this noble letter, and 
judge for themselves.' 



JOHNSON'S FIFTH VOLUME. 



[TO MR JAMES JOHNSON.] 

Dumfries, [February ? ] 1794. 

My dear Sir — I send you by my friend, Mr "Wallace, 1 forty-one 
songs for your fifth volume. Mr Clarke has also a good many, if 
he have not, with his usual indolence, cast them at the cocks. I have 
still a good parcel amongst my hands in scraps and fragments ; so 
that I hope we will make shift with our last volume. 

You should have heard from me long ago; but over and above 
some vexatious share in the pecuniary losses of these accursed 
times, I have all this winter been plagued with low spirits and blue 
devils ; so that / have almost hung my harp on the willow-trees. 

In the meantime, at your leisure, give a copy of the Museum to 
my worthy friend, Mr Peter Hill, bookseller, to bind for me, inter- 
leaved with blank leaves, exactly as he did the Laird of GlenriddePs, 
that I may insert every anecdote I can learn, together with my own 
criticisms and remarks on the songs. A copy of this kind I shall 
leave with you, the editor, to publish at some after-period, by way 
of making the Museum sl book famous to the end of time, and you 
renowned for ever. 

I have got a Highland dirk, for which I have great veneration, as 
it once was the dirk of Lord Balmerino. It fell into bad hands, who 
stripped it of the silver-mounting, as well as the knife and fork. I 
have some thoughts of sending it to your care, to get it mounted 
anew. Our friend Clarke owes me an account, somewhere about 
one pound, which would go a good way in paying the expense. I 
remember you once settled an account in this way before, and as 
you still have money-matters to settle with him, you might accommo- 
date us both My best compliments to your worthy old 

father and your better-half. — Yours, K. Burns. 

The songs undoubtedly and wholly, or almost wholly, by Burns, 
furnished for Johnson's fifth volume, were as follow: — 



THE LOVELY LASS OF INVERNESS. 

Tune — Lass of Inverness. 

The lovely lass o' Inverness, 

Nae joy nor pleasure can she see ; 

For e'en and morn she cries, alas ! 
And aye the saut tear blin's her ee ; 



i Mr Wallace was a young * -writer ' in Dumfries. He deserves honourable mention 
in the Life of Burns, on account of the kind zeal he displayed, two or three yean 
after this date, in behalf of the bereaved family of the poet. 



68 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

Drumossie Moor — Drumossie-day — 

A waefu' day it was to me ! 
For there I lost my father dear — 

My father dear, and brethren three. 

Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay, 

Their graves are growing green to see ; 
And by them lies the dearest lad 

That ever blest a woman's ee ! 
Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, 

A bluidy man I trow thou be ; 
For mony a heart thou hast made sair, 

That ne'er did wrong to thine or thee. 

[The first half stanza of this song is from an older composition, which Burcfl 
here improved upon.] 



A RED, RED ROSE. 

Tun e — Graham's Strathspey. 

my luve's like a red, red rose, 
That's newly sprung in June: 

my hive's like the melodie, 
That's sweetly played in tune. 

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, 

So deep in luve am I : 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 

Till a' the seas gang dry. 

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, 
And the rocks melt wi' the sun ; 

1 will luve thee still, my dear, 

While the sands o' life shall run. 
And fare thee weel, my only luve ! 

And fare thee weel awhile ! 
And I will come again, my luve, 

Though it were ten thousand mile. 

[This song was written hy Burns as 'an improvement upon a street ditty, which 
Mr Peter Buchan says was composed by a Lieutenant Hinches, as a farewell to his 
sweetheart, when on the eve of pai-ting. Various versions of the original song 
are given in Hogg and Motherwell's edition of Burns, including one from a stall 
sheet containing six excellent new songs, which Mr Motherwell conjectures to 
have been printed about 1770, and of which his copy bore these words on its title, 
in a childish scrawl believed to be that of the Ayrshire bard, 'Robine Burns 
aught this bulb and no other.' A version more elegant than any of these was 
communicated to me by the late Mr Robert Hogg in 1823 :— 

O fare thee well, my own true love, 

O fare thee well awhile ; 
But I '11 come back and see thee, love, 

Though I go ten thousand mile. 



A VISION. 69 

Ten thousand mile is a long, long way, 

When from me you are gone : 
You leave me here to lament and sigh, 

But you never can hear my moan. 

Though all our friends should never he pleased — 

They are grown so lofty and high, 
I never will hreak the vows I have made, 

Till the stars fall from the sky. 

Till the stars fall from the sky, my love, 

And the rocks melt wi' the sun : 
I '11 aye prove true to thee, my love, 

Till all these things are done. 

Do you not see yon turtle-dove 

That sits on yonder tree ? 
It is making its moan for the loss of its love, 

As I shall do for thee. 

Now fare thee well, my dearest love, 

Till I return on shore ; 
And thou shalt he my only love, 

Though it were for evermore. 

It is worth while thus to preserve one or two of the original songs on which 
Burns improved, if only to mark the vastness of the improvement.] 



A VISION. 

As I stood by yon roofless tower, 

Where the wa'-nower scents the dewy air, 
Where th' howlet mourns in her ivy bower, 

And tells the midnight moon her care ; 

The winds were laid, the air was still, 
The stars they shot alang the sky ; 

The fox was howling on the hill, 
And the distant echoing glens reply. 

The stream, adown its hazelly path, 
Was rushing by the ruined wa's, 

Hasting to join the sweeping Nith, 1 
Whose distant roaring swells and fa's. 

The cauld blue north was streaming forth 
Her lights, wi' hissing eerie din ; 

Athort the lift they start and shift, 
Like fortune's favours, tint as win. 

1 Far.— To join yon river on the Strath. 



70 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

By heedless chance I turned mine eyes, 
• And, by the moonbeam, shook to see 

A stern and stalwart ghaist arise, 
Attired as minstrels wont to be l 

Had I a statue been o' stane, 

His darin' look had daunted me ; 
And on his bonnet graved was plain, 

The sacred posy — ' Libertie I ' 

And frae his harp sic strains did flow, 

Might roused the slumb'ring dead to hear ; 

But oh ! it was a tale of wo, 
As ever met a Briton's ear. 

He sang wi' joy the former day, 

He weeping wailed his latter times ; 
But what he said it was nae play — 

I winna ventur't in my rhymes. 

A favourite walk of Burns during his residence in Dumfries was 
one along the right bank of the river above the town, terminating 
at the ruins of Lincluden Abbey and Church, which occupy a 
romantic situation on a piece of rising -ground in the angle 
at the junction of the Cluden Water with the Nith. These ruins 
include many fine fragments of ancient decorative architecture, 
and are enshrined in a natural scene of the utmost beauty. 
Burns, according to his eldest son, often mused amidst the Lin- 
cluden ruins. There is one position on a little mount, to the 
south of the church, where a couple of landscapes of witching 
loveliness are obtained, set, as it were, in two of the windows of 
the ancient building. It was probably the ' Calvary' of the 
ancient church precinct. This the younger Burns remembers to 
have been a favourite resting-place of the poet. 

Such is the locality of the grand and thrilling ode, entitled A 
Vision, in which he hints — for more than a hint could not be 
ventured upon — his sense of the degradation of the ancient 
manly spirit of his country under the conservative terrors of 
the passing era. 

1 Var. — Now looking over firth and fauld 

Her horn the pale-faced Cynthia reared; 
When, lo ! in form of minstrel auld, 
A stern and stalwart ghaist appeared. 



SONGS IN JOHNSON'S FIFTH VOLUME. 71 

OUT OVER THE FORTH. 

Tune— Charlie Gordon's welcome Hame. 

Out over the Forth I look to the north, 

But what is the north and its Highlands to me ? 

The south nor the east gie ease to my breast, 
The far foreign land, or the wild rolling sea. 

But I look to the west, when I gae to rest, 

That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be ; 

For far in the west lives he I loe best, 
The lad that is dear to my babie and me. 



LOUIS, WHAT RECK I BY THEE? 

Tune— Louis, what reck I by thee ? 

Louis, what reck I by thee, 

Or Geordie on his ocean ? 
Dyvor, beggar loons to me — bankrupt 

I reign in Jeanie's bosom. 

Let her crown my love her law, 

And in her breast enthrone me : 
Kings and nations — swith, awa ! 

Reif randies, I disown ye ! thief-beggar* 



somebody! 

Tune— For the Sake of Somebody. 

My heart is sair — I dare na tell — 
My heart is sair for somebody ; 
I could wake a winter night 
For the sake of somebody. 
Oh-hon ! for somebody ! 
Oh-hey ! for somebody ! 
I could range the world around, 
For the sake o' somebody ! 

Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, 

O sweetly smile on somebody ! 
Frae }lka danger keep him free, 
And send me safe my somebody ! 
Oh-hon ! for somebody ! 
Oh-hey ! for somebody ! 
I wad do — what wad I not ? 
For the sake o' somebody ! 

C* The whole of thia song was written by Burns, except the third and fourth llnea 
of Btanza first, which are taken from Ramsay's song to the same tune.'— Stenhouse.'} 



72 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE ? 
Air — The Sutor's Dochter. 
Wilt thou be my dearie 1 
When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart. 
Wilt thou let me cheer thee ? 
By the treasure of my soul, 
That's the love I bear thee ! 
I swear and vow that only thou 
Shall ever be my dearie. 
Only thou, I swear and vow, 
Shall ever be my dearie. 

Lassie, say thou loes me ; 
Or if thou wilt na be my ain, 
Say na thou 'It refuse me : 
If it winna, canna be, 
Thou, for thine may choose me, 
Let me, lassie, quickly die, 
Trusting that thou loes me. 
Lassie, let me quickly die, 
Trusting that thou loes me. 



LOVELY POLLY STEWART. 
Tune— Ye 're welcome, Charlie Stewart 
O lovely Polly Stewart ! 

charming Polly Stewart ! 
There's not a flower that blooms in May 

That's half so fair as thou art. 
The flower it blaws, it fades and fa's, 

And art can ne'er renew it ; 
But worth and truth eternal youth 

Will give to Polly Stewart. 

May he whose arms shall fauld thy charms, 

Possess a leal and true heart ; 
To him be given to ken the heaven 

He grasps in Polly Stewart. 
lovely Polly Stewart ! 

O charming Polly Stewart ! 
There 's ne'er a flower that blooms in May 

That's half so sweet as thou art. 

[Polly Stewart was the daughter of a certain "Willie Stewart, on whom Burns 
frrote some impromptu stanzas. She was reared in comfortahle circumstances, 
a few miles from Burns's residence at Ellisland, and was married to a gentleman 
of large property. Sad to relate of one for whom Burns promised that worth and 
truth would give her eternal youth, this poor woman fell aside from the path of 
honour, and sunk into the most humble circumstances in her old age. It was 
stated a few years ago, that she lived as 'a poor lavender' (to use a phrase of 
Barbour's) in Maxwelltown. She is believed to have subsequently died in France, j 



80NGS IN JOHNSON'S FIFTH VOLUME. 73 

COULD AUGHT OF SONG. 1 
Tune — At Setting Day. 

Could aught of song declare my pains, 

Could artful numbers move thee, 
The Muse should tell, in laboured strains, 

O Mary, how I love thee ! 
They who but feign a wounded heart 

May teach the lyre to languish; 
But what avails the pride of art, 

When wastes the soul with anguish ? 

Then let the sudden bursting sigh 

The heart-felt pang discover ; 
And in the keen, yet tender eye, 

O read th' imploring lover ! 
For well I know thy gentle mind 

Disdains art's gay disguising ; 
Beyond what fancy e'er refined, 

The voice of nature prizing. 



WAE IS MY HEART. 

Tcne— Wae is my Heart. 

Wae is my heart, and the tear 's in my ee ; 
Lang, lang, joy's been a stranger to me : 
Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear, 
And the sweet voice o' pity ne'er sounds in my ear. 

Love, thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I loved : 
Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I proved ; 
But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast, 
I can feel its throbbings will soon be at rest. 

Ohj if I were happy, where happy I hae been, 
Down by yon stream, and yon bonnie castle-green ; 
For there he is wand'ring, and musing on me, 
Wha wad soon dry the tear frae Phillis's ee, 

1 The air to which Burns wrote this song, was the production of Dr Samuel 
Howard, organist of St Clement's Danes in the middle of the last century. It 
was composed for Ramsay's song, At Setting Day and Rising Morn, and in tliia 
connoction attained some popularity. 

IV. D 



74 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



HERE'S TO THY HEALTH, MY BONNIE LASS. 
Tote — Laggan Burn. 

Here's to thy health, my bonnie lass, 

Guid-night, and joy be wi' thee ; 
I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door, 

To tell thee that I loe thee. 

dinna think, my pretty pink, 
But I can live without thee : 

1 vow and swear I dinna care 
How lang ye look about ye. 

Thou 'rt aye sae free informing mo 

Thou hast nae mind to marry; 
I'll be as free informing thee 

Nae time hae I to tarry. 
I ken thy friends try ilka means, 

Frae wedlock to delay thee ; 
Depending on some higher chance — 

But fortune may betray thee. 

I ken they scorn my low estate, 

But that does never grieve me ; 
But I'm as free as any he, 

Sma' siller will relieve me. 
I count my health my greatest wealth, 

Sae long as I'll enjoy it: 
I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want, 

As lang's I get employment. 

But far-off fowls hae feathers fair, 

And aye until ye try them : 
Though they seem fair, still have a care, 

They may prove waur than I am. 
But at twal at night, when the moon shines bright, 

My dear, I'll come and see thee; 
For the man that loes his mistress weel, 

JSfac travel makes him weary. 

Of the songs which appeared in Johnson's fifth volume, there 
are others which Burns had to some extent amended as they 
passed through his hands; but as the songs themselves are of no 
great merit, and the improvements by Burns make no conspicuous 
appearance amidst their rough, and often indelicate stanzas, they 
are postponed to a subordinate place in this work. 

After all, the fifth volume of Johnson did not apparently 
exhaust the contributions of the poet, for in a sixth, published in 
1803, there are a few pieces undoubtedly by him. 



SONGS IN JOHNSON'S FIFTH VOLUME. 75 



ANNA, THY CHARMS. 

Tune— Bonnie Mary. 

Anna, thy charms my bosom fire, 

And waste my soul with care ; 
But, ah ! how bootless to admire, 

When fated to despair! 
Yet in thy presence, lovely fair, 

To hope may be forgiven ; 
For sure 'twere impious to despair, 

So much in sight of heaven. 



my lady's gown, there's gairs upon't. 

* * * * 

Out ower yon muir, out ower yon moss, 
Whare gor-cocks through the heather pass, 
There wons auld Colin's bonnie lass — 
A lily in a wilderness. 

Sae sweetly move her gentle limbs, 
Like music notes o' lovers' hymns : 
The diamond dew is her een sae blue, 
Where laughing love sae wanton swims. 



JOCKEY S TAEN THE PARTING KISS. 
Tune— Jockey 's taen the parting Kiss. 

Jockey 's taen the parting kiss, 

O'er the mountains he is gane ; 
And with him is a' my bliss, 

Nought but griefs with me remain. 
Spare my luve, ye winds that blaw, 

Plashy sleets and beating rain ! 
Spare my luve, thou feathery snaw, 

Drifting o'er the frozen plain. 

When the shades of evening creep 
O'er the day's fair, gladsome ee, 
Sound and safely may he sleep, 

Sweetly blithe his waukening be! 
He will think on her he loves, 

Fondly he'll repeat her name; 
For where'er he distant roves, 

Jockey's heart is still at hame. 



75 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

O LAY THY LOOF IN MINE, LASS. 

Tune — Cordwainers' March. 

O lay thy loof in mine, lass, pa lm 

In mine, lass, in mine, lass ; 
And swear on thy white hand, lass, 
That thou wilt be my ain. 

A slave to love's unbounded sway, 
He aft has wrought me meikle wae ; 
But now he is my deadly fae, 
Unless thou be my ain. 

There's mony a lass has broke my rest, 
That for a blink I hae loed best ; a n instant 

But thou art queen within my breast, 
For ever to remain. 

O lay thy loof in mine, lass, 
In mine, lass, in mine, lass ; 
And swear on thy white hand, lass, 
That thou Avilt be my ain. 



O MALLY'S MEEK, M ALLY'S SWEET. 

O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet, 

Mally's modest and discreet, 
Mally's rare, Mally's fair, 

Mally 's every way complete. 

As I was walking up the street, 
A barefit maid I chanced to meet J 

But oh, the road was very hard 
For that fair maiden's tender feet. 

It were mair meet that those fine feet 
Were weel laced up in silken shoon ; 

And 'twere more fit that she should sit 
Within yon chariot gilt aboon. 

Her yellow hair, beyond compare, 

Comes trinkling down her swan-like neck ; 

And her two eyes, like stars in skies, 
Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck. 

It is not of course to be supposed that Burns was to mend his 
breach with the family at Woodley Park by lampooning the lady. 



DEATH OF GLENRIDDEL. 77 

Nor could the scandal of this quarrel, and of its sequel of coarse 
invectives, be expected to extenuate the more general odium in 
which politics had involved him. Nor did the evil stop here. 
Very naturally, the good couple at Carse, by whose fireside he 
had spent so many happy evenings, took part with their friends 
at Woodley; and most sad it is to relate, that ' the worthy Grlen- 
riddel, deep read in old coins, 1 adopted sentiments of reprobation 
and aversion towards the Bard of the Whistle. It cannot be 
doubted that this was a feeling which would pervade all within 
the Riddel influence, as well as many unconcerned persons who, 
having to judge between a pretty woman of fashion, and clever 
Mr Burns — once a ploughman, and now an exciseman — would not 
perhaps take much trouble to ascertain the extent to which the 
lady had given provocation to so ungallant a muse. 

In April, the Laird of Carse died, "unreconciled to our poet, who, 
remembering only his worth and former kindness, immediately 
penned an elegiac sonnet on the sad event. This must be admitted 
as a magnanimous act on Burns's part, under the circumstances ; 
and its merit is the greater, that it was done on the spur of a first 
impulse — the sonnet being completed so early as to appear in the 
local newspaper, beneath the announcement of Glenriddel's death. 



[SONNET ON THE DEATH OF GLENRIDDEL.] 

No more, ye warblers of the. wood, no more ; 
Nor pour your descant grating on my soul : 
Thou young-eyed Spring, gay in thy verdant stole — 

More welcome were to me grim Winter's wildest roar. 

How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes ? 

Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend ! 

How can I to the tuneful strain attend ? 
That strain flows round th' untimely tomb where Riddel lies. 

Yes, pour, ye warblers, pour the notes of wo, 
And soothe the Virtues weeping o'er his bier : 
The Man of Worth, and hath not left his peer, 

Is in his narrow house, for ever darkly low. 

Thee, Spring, again with joy shall others greet ; 
Me, memory of my loss will only meet. 

Burns, besides giving Glenriddel an interleaved copy of the 
Musical Museum, enriched with many manuscript notes, had lent 
him a private manuscript volume, in which he kept such of his 
minor occasional compositions as he deemed unworthy of being 



78 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

printed. This volume not being returned before Glenriddel's 
death, Burns, after a decent interval, bethought him of reclaiming 
it — a task rendered difficult by the relation in which he now stood 
regarding the family. He adopted the resolution of seeking the 
good offices of a sister of Mrs Riddel; and the letter which h« 
wrote to that lady fortunately survives, to reveal to us his senti- 
ments respecting the odium which had been cast upon him. It 
fully appears that he was at this time suffering reproach for 
1 imputed improprieties,' but considered himself as a victim of 
prejudice and caprice. 



to miss . 

[Dumfries, May or June 1794 ?] 

Madam — Nothing short of a kind of absolute necessity could have 
made me trouble you with this letter. Except my ardent and just 
esteem for your sense, taste, and worth, every sentiment arising in 
my breast, as I put pen to paper to you, is painful. The scenes I 
have passed with the friend of my soul, and his amiable connections ! 
the wrench at my heart to think that he is gone, for ever gone from 
me, never more to meet in the wanderings of a weary world ! and the 
cutting reflection of all, that I had most unfortunately, though most 
undeservedly, lost the confidence of that soul of worth, ere it took 
its flight! — these, madam, are sensations of no ordinary anguish. 
However you also may be offended with some imputed improprieties 
of mine, sensibility you know I possess, and sincerity none will 
deny me. 

To oppose those prejudices which have been raised against me, is 
not the business of this letter. Indeed, it is a warfare I know not 
how to wage. The powers of positive vice I can in some degree 
calculate, and against direct malevolence I can be on my guard ; but 
who can estimate the fatuity of giddy caprice, or ward off the 
unthinking mischief of precipitate folly ? 

I have a favour to request of you, madam ; and of your sister, Mrs 
[Riddel], through your means. You know that, at the wish of my 
late friend, I made a collection of all my trifles in verse which I had 
ever written. They are many of them local, some of them puerile 
and silly, and all of them unfit for the public eye. As I have some 
little fame at stake — a fame that I trust may live when the hate of 
those ' who watch for my halting,' and the contumelious sneer of 
those whom accident has made my superiors, will, with themselves, 
be gone to the regions of oblivion — I am uneasy now for the fate of 
those manuscripts. Will Mrs [Riddel] have the goodness to destroy 
them, or return them to me 1 As a pledge of friendship they were 
bestowed ; and that circumstance, indeed, was all their merit. Most 
unhappily for me, that merit they no longer possess ; and I hope that 
Mrs [Riddelj's goodness, which I well know, and ever will revere, 



GLOOMY SPRING OF 1794. 79 

will not refuse this favour to a man whom she once held in some 
degree of estimation. 

With the sincerest esteem, I have the honour to be, madam, &c. 

R. B. 

The fact that the sonnet on Glenriddel stands almost alone 
as a composition of Burns during the first half of 1794, 1 is 
tolerably expressive evidence of the wretchedness which he 
then endured. During this dismal period, even the favourite 
pursuit into which he had been drawn by Mr Thomson was 
nearly at a stand — the following being the only portions of the 
correspondence which belong to it : — 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Edinburgh, Yjth April 1794. 

My dear Sir — Owing to the distress of our friend for the loss 
of his child, at the time of his receiving your admirable but melan- 
choly letter, I had not an opportunity, till lately, of perusing it. 2 
How sorry I am to find Burns saying : ' Canst thou not minister 
to a mind diseased?' while he is delighting others from one end 
of the island to the other. Like the hypochondriac who went to 
consult a physician upon his case — ' Go,' says the doctor, ' and see 
the famous Carlini, who keeps all Paris in good - humour.' 'Alas! 
sir,' replied the patient, ' I am that unhappy Carlini ! ' 

Your plan for our meeting together pleases me greatly, and I 
trust that by some means or other it will soon take place ; but your 
bacchanalian challenge almost frightens me, for I am a miserably 
weak drinker ! 

Allan is much gratified by your good opinion of his talents. He 
dtfias just begun a sketch from your Cotter's Saturday Night, and, 
if it pleaseth himself in the design, he will probably etch or engrave 
it. In subjects of the pastoral and humorous kind he is, perhaps, 
unrivalled by any artist living. He fails a little in giving beauty 
and grace to his females, and his colouring is sombre, otherwise his 
paintings and drawings would be in greater request. 

I like the music of the Sutor's Dochttr, and will consider whether 
it shall be added to the last volume: your verses to it are pretty; 
but your humorous English song, to suit Jo Janet, is inimitable. 
What think you of the air, Within a Mile of Edinburgh ? It has 
always struck me as a modern English imitation ; but it is said to be 
Oswald's, and is so much liked, that I believe I must include it. 
The verses are little better than namby-pamby. Do you consider 
it worth a stanza or two ? 

1 On the 1st April 1794, Woodley Park was advertised for sale. Mr Walter 
Riddel soon after inherited Friars' Carse from his brother, and that estate was in 
like manner advertised in June. 

2 The letter to Mr Cunningham, dated 25th February. 



80 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

May 1794. 

My dear Sir — I return you the plates, with which I am highly 
pleased ; I would humbly propose, instead of the younker knitting 
stockings, to put a stock and horn into his hands. A friend of mine, 
who is positively the ablest judge on the subject I have ever met 
with, and though an unknown, is yet a superior artist with the burin, 
is quite charmed with Allan's manner. I got him a peep of the 
Gentle Shepherd; and he pronounces Allan a most original artist 
of great excellence. 

For my part, I look on Mr Allan's choosing my favourite poem 
for his subject, to be one of the highest compliments I have ever 
received. 

I am quite vexed at Pleyel's being cooped up in France, as it will 
put an entire stop to our work. Now, and for six or seven months, 
I shall be quite in song, as you shall see by and by. I know you 
value a composition because it is made by one of the great ones as 
little as I do. However, I got an air, pretty enough, composed by 
Lady Elizabeth Heron of Heron, which she calls The Banks of Cree. 
Cree is a beautiful romantic stream ;• and as her ladyship is a parti- 
cular friend of mine, I have written the following song to it : — 

THE BANKS OF CREE. 

Tune— The Banks of Cree. 

Here is the glen, and here the bower, 

All underneath the birchen shade ; 
The village-bell has tolled the hour, 

O what can stay my lovely maid ? 

I 
'Tis not Maria's whispe/ing call ; 

'Tis but the balmy-breathing gale, 
Mixed with some warbler's dying fall, 

The dewy star of eve to hail. 

It is Maria's voice I hear ! — 

So calls the woodlark in the grove, 
His little faithful mate to cheer ; 

Afi once '6is music and 'tis love. 

And art thou come ? — and art thou true ? 

O welcome, dear, to love and me ! 
And let us all our vows renew, 

Along the flowery banks of Cree. 

It is to the latter part of the half-year in question, that we 
must assign an affecting anecdote which Mr Lockhart derived 



MEETING WITH DAVID M'CULLOCH. 81 

from Mr David M'Culloch of Ardwell — then a young man on 
intimate terms with our bard. 1 According to Mr Lockhart : 
' Mr M'Culloch was seldom more grieved than, when riding into 
Dumfries one fine summer evening to attend a county ball, 2 he 
saw Burns walking alone on the shady side of the principal street 
of the town, while the opposite side was gay with successive 
groups of ladies and gentlemen, all drawn together for the 
festivities of the night, not one of whom appeared willing to 
recognise him. The horseman dismounted and joined Burns, 
who, on his proposing to him to cross the street, said : " Nay, 
nay, my young friend — that's all over now;" and quoted aftei 
a pause some verses of Lady Grizel Baillie's pathetic ballad : 

" His bonnet stood ance fu' fair on his brow, 

His auld ane looked better than mony ane's new ; 
But now he let's wear ony gate it will hing, 
And casts himsel' dowie upon the corn-bing. 

Oh, were we young, as we ance hae been, 
"We sud hae been galloping down on yon green, 
And linking it ower the lily-white lea — 
And werena my heart light I wad die." 

1 It was little in Burns's character to let his feelings on certain 
subjects escape in this fashion. He, immediately after citing these 
verses, assumed the sprightliness of his most pleasing manner ; 
and taking his young friend home with him, entertained him very 
agreeably until the hour of the ball arrived, with a bowl of his 
usual potation, and bonnie Jean's singing of some verses which he 
had recently composed.' 

Neither was it in Burns's character to remain permanently under 
the dejection which had beset him during the early part of this 
year. The summer came on, to tempt him into the country, and 
charm him into song. Time softened away the odium bestowed 
upon him by the superior circles in Dumfries. Even the political 
horizon began to clear a little, now that reaction for moderation 
was setting in at Paris, and Robespierre's downfall was approaching. 
Britain had stood the first shock of French propagandism ; a 
great naval victory had cheered the ministry ; and the proper- 
tied classes began to feel less nervous. After a few months had 

1 In the minute of the meeting of the Dumfries St Andrew's Lodge for May 
6, 1794, D. M'Culloch is admitted a member. Burns is not mentioned in the list of 
those present. 

2 The King's Birthday of 1794 was celebrated in Dumfries with unusual cordiality 
and variety of demonstrations. Two large dinner-parties met at the inns, and at 
six o'clock there was a grand reunion in the Town Hall, to drink the king's health. 
The Loyal Native Club wore ribbons embroidered by loyal ladies in their hats, and 
the multitude was regaled with bonfires. It is very likely that this was the occasion 
of Mr M'Culloch's rencontre with Burns. 



82 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

passed over, Burns recovered in a great measure from his depressed 
state, and once more thought that a supervisorship might be in 
store for him. It is to be feared, however, that some degree of 
permanent sourness towards ' respectable people' from this time 
remained in his mind, accompanied by a greater tendency foi 
society beneath even his own humble grade. It also appear: 
that the vigour of his constitution was now beginning, at five-and 
thirty, to give way under the effects of his generally imprudent 
course of life. 

It was very probably in consequence of an appointment made at 
their late rencontre, that Burns wrote as follows to Mr M'Culloch. 
The allusion to a visit to Mr Heron of Heron at Kerroughtree, is 
characteristic of the proud poet, and also valuable as shewing that 
at least a Whig country gentleman deemed him presentable at this 
time before good society. 

TO DAVID M'CULLOCH, ESQ. 

Dumfries, 21st June 1794. 
My dear Sir — My long-projected journey through your country is 
at last fixed ; and on Wednesday next, if you have nothing of more 
importance to do, take a saunter down to Gatehouse about two or 
three o'clock ; I shall be happy to take a draught of M'Kune's best 
with you. Collector Syme will be at Glen's about that time, and will 
meet us about dish-of-tea hour. Syme goes also to Kerroughtree, and 
let me remind you of your kind promise to accompany me there : I 
will need all the friends I can muster, for I am indeed ill at ease 
whenever I approach your honourables and right honourables. 
Yours sincerely, K. B. 



TO MRS DUNLOP. 

Castle-Douglas, 25th June 1794. 

Here, in a solitary inn, in a solitary village, am I set by myself, to 
amuse my brooding fancy as I may. Solitary confinement, you know, 
is Howard's favourite idea of reclaiming sinners ; so let me consider 
by what fatality it happens that I have so long been so exceeding 
sinful as to neglect the correspondence of the most valued friend I 
have on earth. To tell you that I have been in poor health will not 
be excuse enough, though it is true. I am afraid that I am about to 
suffer for the follies of my youth. My medical friends threaten mo 
with a flying gout ; but I trust they are mistaken. 

I am just going to trouble your critical patience with the first 
sketch of a stanza I have been framing as I passed along the road. 
The subject is liberty ; you know, my honoured friend, how dear the 



LAST LETTER TO CLARINDA. 83 

theme is to me. I design it as an irregular ode for General "Wash- 
ington's birthday. After having mentioned the degeneracy of other 
kingdoms, I come to Scotland thus : 

Thee, Caledonia, thy wild heaths among, 
Thee, famed for martial deed and sacred song, 

To thee I turn with swimming eyes ; 
Where is that soul of freedom fled ? 
Immingled with the mighty dead, 

Beneath the hallowed turf where Wallace lies ! 
Hear it not, Wallace, in thy bed of death, 

Ye babbling winds, in silence sweep, 

Disturb ye not the hero's sleep, 
Nor give the coward secret breath. 
Is this the power in freedom's war, 

That wont to bid the battle rage ? 

With the additions of — 

Behold that eye which shot immortal hate, 

Braved usurpation's boldest daring; 
That arm which, nerved with thundering fate, 

Crushed the despot's proudest bearing : 
One quenched in darkness like the sinking star, 

And one the palsied arm of tottering, powerless age. 

You will probably have another scrawl from me in a stag« 
or two. R. B. 

There has been preserved one more letter to Clarinda, and from 
several allusions contained in it, it seems not unlikely to have 
been penned at the same time with the preceding epistle to Mrs 
Dunlop. 

TO CLARINDA. 

Before you ask me why I have not written you, first let me be 
informed by you, how I shall write you? 'In friendship,' you say; 
and I have many a time taken up my pen to try an epistle of 
* friendship ' to you, but it will not do ; 'tis like Jove grasping a pop- 
gun after having wielded his thunder. When I take up the pen, 
recollection ruins me. Ah, my ever-dearest Clarinda! Clarinda! 
What a host of memory's tenderest offspring crowd on my fancy 
at that sound! But I must not indulge that subject; you have 
forbid it. 

I am extremely happy to learn that your precious health is re- 
established, and that you are once more fit to enjoy that satisfaction 
in existence which health alone can give us. My old friend Ainslie 
has indeed been kind to you. Tell him, that I envy him the power 



84 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

of serving yon. I had a letter from him awhile ago, but it was so 
dry, so distant, so like a card to one of his clients, that I could scarce 
bear to read it, and have not yet answered it. He is a good, honest 
fellow, and can write a friendly letter, which would do equal honour 
to his head and his heart, as a whole sheaf of his letters which I 
have by me will witness; and though Fame does not blow her 
trumpet at my approach now as she did then, when he first honoured 
me with his friendship, yet I am as proud as ever ; and when I am 
laid in my grave, I wish to be stretched at my full length, that I 
may occupy every inch of ground I have a right to. 

You would laugh were you to see me where I am just now. 
"Would to Heaven you were here to laugh with me, though I am 
afraid that crying would be our first employment ! Here am I set, a 
solitary hermit, in the solitary room of a solitary inn, with a solitary 
bottle of wine by me, as grave and as stupid as an owl, but, like that 
owl, still faithful to my old song ; in confirmation of which, my dear 
Mrs Mac, here is your good health ! May the hand- waled benisons 
o' Heaven bless your bonnie face ; and the wratch wha skellies at 
your welfare, may the auld tinkler deil get him to clout his rotten 
heart ! Amen. 

You must know, my dearest madam, that these now many years, 
wherever I am, in whatever company, when a married lady is called 
as a toast, I constantly give you ; but as your name has never passed 
my lips, even to my most intimate friend, I give you by the name of 
Mrs Mac. This is so well known among my acquaintances, that 
when any married lady is called for, the toast-master will say : 
* Oh, we need not ask him who it is : here's Mrs Mac !' I have also, 
among my convivial fx-iends, set on foot a round of toasts, which I 
call a round of Arcadian Shepherdesses — that is, a round of favourite 
ladies, under female names celebrated in ancient song ; and then you 
are my Clarinda. So, my lovely Clarinda, I devote this glass of wina 
to a most ardent wish for your happiness. 

In vain would Prudence, with decorous sneer, 
Point out a censuring world, and bid me fear : 
Above that world on wings of love I rise, 
I know its worst, and can that worst despise. 

' Wronged, injured, shunned, unpitied, unredrest; 
The mocked quotation of the scorner's jest ' — 
Let Prudence' direst bodements on me fall, 
Clarinda, rich reward ! o'erpays them all. 

I have been rhyming a little of late, but I do not know if they are 
worth postage. 

Tell me what you think of the following monody. * * * * 
The subject of the foregoing is a woman of fashion in this country, 
with whom at one period I was well acquainted. By some scanda- 
lous conduct to me, and two or three other gentlemen here as well 



INSCRIPTION TO MRS GRAHAM OF FINTRY. 85 

as me, she steered so far to the north of my good opinion, that I have 
made her the theme of several ill-natured things. The following 
epigram struck me the other day as I passed her carriage. * * * * 

The monody was that On a Lady famed for her Caprice — namely, 
the beautiful and accomplished Mrs Walter Riddel. The epigram 
is a composition even less worthy of Burns, and this not merely 
in respect of ability, but of feeling. To have given expression to 
such sentiments regarding a female, even though a positive wrong 
had been inflicted, would have been totally indefensible ; and still 
more astounding is it to find, that the bard could think of exhibit- 
ing such an effusion to another female. Strange that the generous 
heart, which never failed to have ruth on human wo, which felt 
even for ' the ourie cattle and the silly sheep,' which glowed with 
patriotic fire, and disdained everything like a sordid or shabby 
action, should have been capable of condescending to an expres- 
sion of coarse and rancorous feeling against a woman, and one who 
had shewn him many kindnesses ! But yet such was Burns — the 
irritable genius, as well as the humane man. 1 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

July 1794. 

Is there no news yet of Pleyel ? Or is your work to be at a dead 
stop, until the allies set our modern Orpheus at liberty from the 
savage thraldom of democrat discords ? Alas the day ! And wo 
is me! That auspicious period, pregnant with the happiness of 
millions * * * seems by no means near. 

I have presented a copy of your songs to the daughter of a much- 
valued and much-honoured friend of mine, Mr Graham of Fintry. I 
wrote on the blank side of the title-page the following address to the 
young lady : — 

Here, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives, 
In sacred strains and tuneful numbers joined, 

Accept the gift, though humble he who gives ; 
Kich is the tribute of the grateful mind. 

So may no ruffian feeling in thy breast, 
Discordant jar thy bosom-chords among ; 

But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest, 
Or Love ecstatic wake his seraph song : 

Or Pity's notes, in luxury of tears, 

As modest Want the tale of wo reveals ; 

While conscious Virtue all the strain endears, 
And heaven-born Piety her sanction seals. 

1 The manuscript of the epigram in question is in the possession of Mr W. B 
Watson, Princes Street, Edinburgh. 



86 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

This letter contains an ironical tirade on the mishaps of Prussia 
in her war against France, which Dr Currie had deemed unfit for 
publication. 

Though Burns had on several occasions, in 1793, acted on his 
own principle, ' to jouk and let the jaw flee o'er,' it is to be feared 
that he sometimes let himself out in this manner respecting passing 
events, both in conversation and in private letters. Nor can we 
suppose that so impetuous a spirit, which regarded the whole 
anti- Gallic policy of Europe as an error, leading to the destruc- 
tion of men and their best interests, could have effectually chained 
itself up. Even the foolish fears often expressed by the conser- 
vative party of the day, and the paltriness of the means conde- 
scended to in many instances for the preservation of the country 
throughout the crisis, were but too apt to provoke a manly nature 
such as his to cry out and spare not. Being, on the other hand, 
little apt to think his words of great consequence, it is to be feared 
that he was much less cautious in the expression of his opinions 
than was necessary for his escaping censure. We have already 
had some of these escapes of political sentiment before us. Many 
others have survived till these times on the breath of tradition and 
otherwise. 

In a lady's pocket-book, he inscribed an extempore quatrain: 

Grant me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live, 
To see the miscreants feel the pains they give : 
Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air, 
Till slave and despot be but things which were. 

More bitter was the verse which he called — 



THE CREED OF POVERTY. 

In politics if thou wouldst mix, 

And mean thy fortunes be ; 
Bear this in mind, be deaf and blind, 

Let great folks hear and see. 

Burns and Syme, with a young physician named Maxwell, and 
several others, all latitudinarians in most respects, and all of them 
enemies of the system pursued by the government, held occa- 
sional symposia of a secret, or at least strictly private nature, at 
which they could enunciate their sentiments freely. It is said 
that they locked the door of their place of meeting — a circum- 
stance which would, of course, set the popular imagination at 
work, and cause them to be suspected of something even worse 
than what they were guilty of. In antagonism to them, was a 



DEMOCRATIC EFFUSIONS. 87 

club of Anti-Grallicans, who took upon themselves the name 01 
the Loyal Natives; and it appears that one of these gentlemes 
ventured on one occasion to launch a political pellet at the three 
friends of the people. A very miserable pellet it was: — 

Ye sons of sedition, give ear to my song ; 
Let Syme, Burns, and Maxwell pervade every throng ; 
With Craken the attorney, and Mundell the quack, 
Send Willie the monger to hell with a smack. 

This being handed across the table to Burns at one of the 
meetings of the disloyal corps, he instantly endorsed it with — 

Ye true Loyal Natives, attend to my song, 

In uproar and riot rejoice the night long; 

From envy and hatred your corps is exempt, 

But where is your shield from the darts of contempt ? 

It is far from likely that the whole of the democratic effusions 
of Burns have come down to us. For many years, that kind of 
authorship was attended with so much reproach, that men of 
humanity studied to conceal rather than to expose the evidence 
by which it could be proved against him. And even after the 
poor bard's death, the interests of his young family demanded of 
all the admirers of his name, that nothing should be brought 
forward which was calculated to excite a political jealousy 
regarding him. Hence, for many years there was a mystery 
observed on this subject. During that time, of course, many 
manuscripts might perish. As things now stand — the whole 
matter being looked on as only a curious piece of literary 
history — there can be no great objection to the publication 
of any piece of the kind which may have chanced to be 
preserved. There is one which, but for the manner in which it 
introduces the name of the unfortunate Louis XVL, might have 
now been read without any pain, as containing only the feelings 
of a man who looked too sanguinely upon the popular cause in 
France : — 



THE TREE OF LIBERTY. 

Heard ye o' the tree o' France, 
I watna what's the name o't; 

Around it a' the patriots dance, 
Weel Europe kens the fame o't. 



LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

It stands where ance the Bastile stood, 
A prison built by kings, man, 

When Superstition's hellish brood 
Kept France in leading-strings, man. 

Upo' this tree there grows sic fruit, 

Its virtues a' can tell, man ; 
It raises man aboon the brute, 

It maks him ken himsel, man. 
Gif ance the peasant taste a bit, 

He's greater than a lord, man, 
And wi' the beggar shares a mite 

0' a' he can afford, man. 

This fruit is worth a' Afric's wealth, 

To comfort us 'twas sent, man : 
To gie the sweetest blush o' health, 

And mak us a' content, man. 
It clears the een, it cheers the heart, 

Maks high and low gude friends, man; 
And he wha acts the traitor's part, 

It to perdition sends, man. 

My blessings aye attend the chiel, 

Wha pitied Gallia's slaves, man, 
And staw a branch, spite o' the deil, 

Frae yont the western waves, man. 
Fair Virtue watered it wi' care, 

And now she sees wi' pride, man, 
How weel it buds and blossoms there, 

Its branches spreading wide, man. 

But vicious folk aye hate to see 

The works o' Virtue thrive, man ; 
The courtly vermin's banned the tree, 

And grat to see it thrive, man ; 
King Loui' thought to cut it down, 

When it was unco sma', man ; 
For this the watchman cracked his crown, 

Cut aff his head and a', man, 

A wicked crew syne, on a time, 

Did tak a solemn aith, man, 
It ne'er should flourish to its prime, 

I wat they pledged their faith, man. 
Awa they gaed wi' mock parade, 

Like beagles hunting game, man, 
But soon grew weary o' the trade, 

And wished they'd been at hame, man. 



THE TREE OF LIBERTY. 81 

For Freedom, standing by the tree, 

Her sons did loudly ca', man ; 
She sang a sang o' liberty, 

"Which pleased them ane and a', man. 
By her inspired, the new-born race 

Soon drew the avenging steel, man ; 
The hirelings ran — her foes gied chase, 

And banged the despot weel, man. 

Let Britain boast her hardy oak, 

Her poplar and her pine, man, 
Auld Britain ance could crack her joke, 

And o'er her neighbours shine, man. 
But seek the forest round and round, 

And soon 'twill be agreed, man, 
That sic a tree can not be found 

'Twixt London and the Tweed, man. 

Without this tree, alake this life 

Is but a vale o' wo, man ; 
A scene o' sorrow mixed wi' strife, 

Nae real joys we know, man. 
We labour soon, we labour late, 

To feed the titled knave, man ; 
And a' the comfort we 're to get, 

Is that ayont the grave, man. 

Wi' plenty o' sic trees, I trow, 

The warld would live in peace, man ; 
The sword would help to mak a plough, 

The din o' war wad cease, man. 
Like brethren in a common cause, 

We'd on each other smile, man; 
And equal rights and equal laws 

Wad gladden every isle, man. 

Wae worth the loon wha wadna eat 

Sic halesome dainty cheer, man ; 
I'd gie my shoon frae affmy feet, 

To taste sic fruit, I swear, man. 
Syne let us pray, auld England may 

Sure plant this far-famed tree, man ; 
And blithe we'll sing, and hail the day 

That gave us liberty, man. * 



1 Originally printed in the People's Edition of Burns (1840), from a manuscript 
In the possession of Mr James Duncan, Mosesficld, Glasgow. 



90 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Edinburgh, \0th August 1794. 
My dear Sir — I owe you an apology for having so long delayed 
to acknowledge the favour of your last. I fear it will be as you say, 
I shall have no more songs from Pleyel till France and we are 
friends ; but, nevertheless, I am very desirous to be prepared with 
the poetry ; and as the season approaches in which your Muse of 
Coila visits you, I trust I shall, as formerly, be frequently gratified 
with the result of your amorous and tender interviews! 

It will be found in the few ensuing pages that, as usual, Burns 
got into active inspiration during the autumn. He appears to 
have now recovered from the low spirits which beset him in the 
early part of the year. 






BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

20th August 1794. 

The last evening, as I was straying out, and thinking of O'er the 
Hills and far away, I spun the following stanza for it; but whether 
my spinning will deserve to be laid up in store, like the precious 
thread of the silkworm, or brushed to the devil, like the vile manu- 
facture of the spider, I leave, my dear sir, to your usual candid 
criticism. I was pleased with several lines in it at first, but I own 
that now it appears rather a flimsy business. 

This is just a hasty sketch, until I see whether it be worth a 
critique. We have many sailor-songs, but as far as I at present 
recollect, they are mostly the effusions of the jovial sailor, not the 
wailings of his lovelorn mistress. I must here make one sweet 
exception — Sweet Annie frae the Sea-beach came. Now for the song: — 

ON THE SEAS AND EAR AWAY. 
Tone— O'er the Hills, &c. 

How can my poor heart be glad, 
When absent from my sailor lad? 
How can I the thought forego, 
He's on the seas to meet the foe? 
Let me wander, let me rove, 
Still my heart is with my love : 
Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day, 
Are with him that's far away. 

CHORU&. 

On the seas and far away, 
On stormy seas and far away ; 
Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day, 
Are aye with him that's far away. 



I 

SONG — ON THE SEAS AND FAR AWAY. 91 

When in summer's noon I faint, 
As weary flocks around me pant, 
Haply in the scorching sun 
My sailor 's thundering at his gun : 
Bullets, spare my only joy ! 
Bullets, spare my darling boy ! 
Fate, do with me what you may, 
Spare but him that's far away! 

At the starless midnight hour, 

When winter rules with boundless power; 

As the storms the forest tear, 

And thunders rend the howling air, 

Listening to the doubling roar, 

Surging on the rocky shore, 

All I can — I weep and pray, 

For his weal that's far away. 

Peace, thy olive wand extend, 

And bid wild war his ravage end, 

Man with brother man to meet, 

And as a brother kindly greet ; 

Then may Heaven with prosperous gales, 

Fill my sailor's welcome sails, 

To my arms their charge convey, 

My dear lad that's far away. 

I give you leave to abuse this song, but do it in the spirit of 
Christian meekness. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Edinburgh, 16th Sept. 1794. 

My dear Sir — You have anticipated my opinion of On the Seas 
and far away; I do not think it one of your very happy produc- 
tions, though it certainly contains stanzas that are worthy of all 
acceptation. 

The second is the least to my liking, particularly, ' Bullets, spare 
my only joy !' Confound the bullets ! It might, perhaps, be objected 
to the third verse, * At the starless midnight hour,' that it has too 
much grandeur of imagery, and that greater simplicity of thought 
would have better suited the character of a sailor's sweetheart. 
The tune, it must be remembered, is of the brisk, cheerful kind. 
Upon the whole, therefore, in my humble opinion, the song would be 
better adapted to the tune, if it consisted only of the first and last 
verses, with the choruses. 



92 LIFE AND WORKS OF BCltNS. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

Sept. 1791. 

I shall withdraw my On the Seas and far away altogether : it is 
unequal, and unworthy the work. Making a poem is like begetting 
a son : you cannot know whether you have a wise' man or a fool, 
until you produce him to the world to try him. 

For that reason, I send you the offspring of my brain, abortions 
and all ; and, as such, pray look over them, and forgive them, and 
burn them. 1 I am flattered at your adopting CW the Yowes to the 
Knowes, as it was owing to me that ever it saw the light. About 
seven years ago, I was well acquainted with a worthy little fellow 
of a clergyman, a Mr Clunie, who sang it charmingly ; and, at my 
request, Mr Clarke took it down from his singing. When I gave it 
to Johnson, I added some stanzas to the song, and mended others, 
but still it will not do for you. In a solitary stroll which I took 
to-day, I tried my hand on a few pastoral lines, following up the 
idea of the chorus, which I would preserve. Here it is, with all its 
crudities and imperfections on its head. 



ca' the yowes to the knowes. 



Ca' the yowes to the knowes, 
Ca' them where the heather grows, 
Ca' them where the burnie rows, 
My bonnie dearie ! 

Hark ! the mavis' evening-sang 
Sounding Cluden's woods amang • 
Then a faulding let us gang, 
My bonnie dearie. 

"We'll gae down by Cluden side, 
Through the hazels spreading wide, 
O'er the waves that sweetly glide 
To the moon sae clearly. 

Yonder Cluden's silent towers, 
Where at moonshine midnight hours, 
O'er the dewy bending flowers, 
Fairies dance sae cheery. 

1 This Virgilian order of the poet should, I think, he disoheyed with respect to 
the song in question, the second stanza excepted.— Note by Mr Thomson. 

Doctors differ. The objection to the second stanza does not strike the editor.-* 
Cubeie. 



SONG — SHE SAYS SHE LOES ME BEST OP A*. 93 

Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear ; 
Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear, 
Nocht of ill may come thee near, 
My bonnie dearie. 

Fair and lovely as thou art, 
Thou hast stown my very heart ; 
I can die— but canna part, 
My bonnie dearie. 

While waters wimple to the sea ; 
While day blinks in the lift sae hie; 
Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my ee, 
Ye shall be my dearie. 

I shall give you my opinion of your other newly-adopted songs, 
my first scribbling fit. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

'Sept. 1794 

Do you know a blackguard Irish song called Onagh's Waterfall? 
Our friend Cunningham sings it delightfully. The air is charming, 
and I have often regretted the want of decent verses to it. It is too 
much, at least for my humble rustic Muse, to expect that every effort 
of hers shall have merit; still, I think that it is better to have 
mediocre verses to a favourite air, than none at all. On this principle 
I have all along proceeded in the Scots Musical Museum; and as that 
publication is at its last volume, I intend the following song, to the air 
above mentioned, for that work. 

If it does not suit you as an editor, you may be pleased to have 
verses to it that you can sing in the company of ladies. 

SHE SAYS SHE LOES ME BEST OF A\ 
Tmrz—Onagh's Lock. 

Sae flaxen were her ringlets, 

Her eyebrows of a darker hue, 
Bewitchingly o'er-arching 

Twa laughing een o' bonnie blue. 
Her smiling, sae Ayiling, 

Wad make a wretch forget his wo : 
What pleasure, what treasure, 

Unto these rosy lips to grow : 
Such was my Chloris' bonnie face, 

When first her bonnie face I saw; 
And aye my Chloris' clearest charm, 

She says she loes mc best of a'. 



94 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURN3. 

Like harmony her motion ; 

Her pretty ankle is a spy 
Betraying fair proportion, 

Wad make a saint forget the sky. 
Sae warming, sae charming, 

Her faultless form and graceful air ; 
Ilk feature — an Id nature 

Declared that she could do nae mair. 
Hers are the willing chains o' love, 

By conquering beauty's sovereign law ; 
And aye my Chloris' dearest charm, 

She says she loes me best of a'. 

Let others love the city, 

And gaudy show at sunny noon ; 
Gie me the lonely valley, 

The dewy eve, and rising moon 
Fair beaming, and streaming, 

Her silver light the boughs amang; 
"While falling, recalling, 

The amorous thrush concludes his sang : 
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove 

By wimpling burn and leafy shaw, 
And hear my vows o' truth and love, 

And say thou loes me best of a'. 

Not to compare small things with great, my taste in music is like 
the mighty Frederick of Prussia's taste in painting : we are told that 
he frequently admired what the connoisseurs decried, and always 
without any hypocrisy confessed his admiration. I am sensible that 
my taste in music must be inelegant and vulgar, because people of 
undisputed and cultivated taste can find no merit in my favourite 
tunes. Still, because I am cheaply pleased, is that any reason why 
I should deny myself that pleasure? Many of our strathspeys, 
ancient and modern, give me most exquisite enjoyment, where you 
and other judges would probably be shewing disgust. For instance, 
I am just now making verses for Rothemur chie's Rant, an air which 
puts me in raptures ; and, in fact, unless I be pleased with the tune, 
I never can make verses to it. Here I have Clarke on my side, who 
is a judge that I will pit against any of you. Rothemur chie, he says, 
' is an air both original and beautiful ;' and on his recommendation 
I have taken the first part of the tune for a chorus, and the fourth or 
last part for the song. I am but two stanzas deep in the work, and 
possibly you may think, and justly, that the poetry is as little worth 
your attention as the music. 

[These stanzas will be found afterwards in the complete song."] 

I have begun anew, Let me in this ae Night. Do you think that we 
ought to retain the old chorus ? I think we must retain both the old 



EPIGRAM ON MISS JESSIE STAIG'S RECOVERY. 95 

chorus and the first stanza of the old song. I do not altogether like 
the third line of the first stanza, but cannot alter it to please myself. 
I am just three stanzas deep in it. Would you have the denouement 
to be successful or otherwise ? — should she i let him in' or not? 

Did you not once propose The Sow's Tail to Geordie as an air for 
your work ? I am quite delighted with it ; but I acknowledge, that 
is no mark of its real excellence. I once set about verses for it, 
which I meant to be in the alternate way of a lover and his mistress 
chanting together. I have not the pleasure of knowing Mrs Thom- 
son's Christian name, and yours, I am afraid, is rather burlesque for 
sentiment, else I had meant to have made you [two] the hero and 
heroine of the little piece. 

How do you like the following epigram, which I wrote the other 
day on a lovely young girl's recovery from a fever ? Dr Maxwell 
was the physician who seemingly saved her from the grave ; and to 
him I address the following : — 



TO DR MAXWELL, 
ON MISS JESSIE STAIG's RECOVERY. 

Maxwell, if merit here you crave, 

That merit I deny : 
You save fair Jessy from the grave ! — 

An angel could not die ! 



u patience with this stupid epistle ! 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

I perceive the sprightly Muse is now attendant upon her favourite 
poet, whose wood-notes wild are become as enchanting as ever. She 
says she loes me best of a' is one of the pleasantest table-songs I have 
seen, and henceforth shall be mine when the song is going round. 
I'll give Cunningham a copy; he can more powerfully proclaim its 
merit. I am far from undervaluing your taste for the strathspey 
music; on the contrary, I think it highly animating and agreeable, 
and that some of the strathspeys, when graced with such verses as 
yours, will make very pleasing songs, in the same way that rough 
Christians are tempered and softened by lovely woman, without 
whom, you know, they had been brutes. 

I am clear for having the Sow's Tail, particularly as your proposed 
verses to it are so extremely promising. Geordie, as you observe, 
is a name only fit for burlesque composition. Mrs Thomson's name 
(Katharine) is not at all poetical. Retain Jeanie, therefore, and 
make the other Jamie, or any other that sounds agreeably. 

Your Co? the Ewes is a precious little morceau. Indeed, I am 
perfectly astonished and charmed witli the endless variety of your 



96 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

fancy. Here let me ask you, whether you never seriously turned 
your thoughts upon dramatic writing? That is a field worthy of 
your genius, in which it might shine forth in all its splendour. One 
or two successful pieces upon the London stage would make your 
fortune. The rage at present is for musical dramas : few or none 
of those which have appeared since the Duenna possess much poetical 
merit ; there is little in the conduct of the fable, or in the dialogue, 
to interest the audience: they are chiefly vehicles for music and 
pageantry. I think you might produce a comic opera in three acts, 
which would live by the poetry, at the same time that it would be 
proper to take every assistance from her tuneful sister. Part of the 
songs, of course, would be to our favourite Scottish airs ; the rest 
might be left to the London composer — Storace for Drury Lane, or 
Shield for Covent Garden, both of them very able and popular 
musicians. I believe that interest and manoeuvring are often neces- 
sary to have a drama brought on ; so it may be with the namby- 
pamby tribe of flowery scribblers : but were you to address Mr 
Sheridan himself by letter, and send him a dramatic piece, I am 
persuaded he would, for the honour of genius, give it a fair and 
candid trial. Excuse me for obtruding these hints upon your 
consideration. 

With reference to the suggestion here made by Mr Thomson, 
Dr Currie says that our bard had previously received the same 
advice, and had certainly gone so far as to cast about for a 
subject. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Edinburgh, \4th Oct. 1794. 

The last eight days have been devoted to the re-examination of 
the Scottish collections. I have read, and sung, and fiddled, and 
considered, till I am half blind, and wholly stupid. The few airs I 
have added are enclosed. 

Peter Pindar has at length sent me all the songs I expected from 
him, which are, in general, elegant and beautiful. Have you heard 
of a London collection of Scottish airs and songs, just published by 
Mr Ritson, an Englishman? I shall send you a copy. His intro- 
ductory essay on the subject is curious, and evinces great reading 
and research, but does not decide the question as to the origin 
of our melodies ; though he shews clearly that Mr Tytler, in his 
ingenious dissertation, has adduced no sort of proof of the hypothesis 
he wished to establish, and that his classification of the airs according 
to the eras when they were composed, is mere fancy and conjecture. 
On John Pinkerton, Esq., he has no mercy, but consigns him to 
damnation. He snarls at my publication, on the score of Pindar 
being engaged to write songs for it ; uncandidly and unjustly leaving 



DESCRIBES CHLORIS AS HIS POETICAL GODDESS. 97 

it to he inferred, that the songs of Scottish writers had been sent 
a packing to make room for Peter's ! Of you he speaks with some 
respect, but gives you a passing hit or two for daring to dress up a 
little some old foolish songs for the Museum. His sets of the 
Scottish airs are taken, he says, from the oldest collections and best 
authorities : many of them, however, have such a strange aspect, 
and are so unlike the sets which are sung by every person of taste, 
old or young, in town or country, that we can scarcely recognise the 
features of our favourites. By going to the oldest collections of our 
music, it does not follow that we find the melodies in their original 
state. These melodies had been preserved, we know not how long, 
by oral communication, before being collected and printed ; and 
as different persons sing the same air very differently, according to 
their accurate or confused recollection of it, so, even supposing the 
first collectors to possess the industry, taste, and discernment to 
choose the best they could hear — which is far from certain— still it 
must evidently be a chance whether the collections exhibit any 
of the melodies in the state they were first composed. In selecting 
the melodies for my own collection, I have been as much guided by 
the living as by the dead. Where these differed, I preferred the 
sets that appeared to me the most simple and beautiful, and the 
most generally approved : and without meaning any compliment to 
my own capability of choosing, or speaking of the pains I have 
taken, I flatter myself that my sets will be found equally free from 
vulgar errors on the one hand, and affected graces on the other. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

19th October 1794. 

My dear Friend — By this morning's post I have your list, and, 
in general, I highly approve of it. I shall, at more leisure, give you 
a critique on the whole. Clarke goes to your town by to-day's fly, 
and I wish you would call on him, and take his opinion in general : 
you know his taste is a standard. He will return here again in a 
week or two, so please do not miss asking for him. One thing I 
hope he will do, which would give me high satisfaction — persuade 
you to adopt my favourite, Craigiebum Wood, in your selection : it 
is as great a favourite of his as of mine. The lady on whom it was 
made is one of the finest women in Scotland ; and, in fact (entre 
nous), is in a manner to me what Sterne's Eliza was to him — a 
mistress, or friend, or what you will, in the guileless simplicity of 
Platonic love. (Now, don't put any of your squinting constructions 
on this, or have any clishmaclaver about it among our acquaintances.) 
I assure you, that to my lovely friend you are indebted for many of 
your best songs of mine. Do you think that the sober, gin-horse 
routine of existence could inspire a man with life, and love, and joy 
— could fire him with enthusiasm, or melt him with pathos, equal to 

VOL. IV. E 



98 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

the genius of your book ? JNo — no! Whenever I want to be more 
than ordinary in song — to be in some degree equal to your diviner 
airs — do you imagine I fast and pray for the celestial emanation ? 
Tout au contraire ! I have a glorious recipe ; the very one that for 
his own use was invented by the divinity of healing and poetry, 
when erst he piped to the nocks of Admetus. I put myself in a 
regimen of admiring a fine Avoman; and, in proportion to the 
adorability of her charms, in proportion you are delighted with my 
verses. The lightning of her eye is the godhead of Parnassus, and 
the witchery of her smile the divinity of Helicon! 

To descend to the business with which I began : if you like my 
idea of When she cam ben she bobbit, the following stanzas of mine, 
altered a little from what they were formerly, when set to another 
air, may perhaps do instead of worse stanzas : — 



SAW YE MY PHELY? 

Tune— When she cam ben she tdbbit. 

Oh, saw ye my dear, my Phely ? 
Oh, saw ye my dear, my Phely ? 
She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new love, 
She winna come hame to her Willy. 

What says she, my dearest, my Phely? 
What says she, my dearest, my Phely ? 
She lets thee to wit, that she has thee forgofc, 
And for ever disowns thee, her Willy. 

Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely ! 
Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely ! 
As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair, 
Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willy. 

Now for a few miscellaneous remarks. The Posie (in the Museum) 
is my composition; the air was taken down from Mrs Burns's voice. 1 
It is* well known in the west country, but the old words are trash. 
By the by, take a look at the tune again, and tell me if you do not 
think it is the original from which Rosliti Castle is composed. The 
second part, in particular, for the first two or three bars, is exactly 
the old air. Strathallart s Lament is mine; the music is by our 
right trusty and deservedly well-beloved Allai, Masterton. Donocht- 
LTead is not mine ; I would give ten pounds it were. It appeared 
first in the Edinburgh Herald, and came to the editor of that paper 

* This, and the other poems of which he speaks, had appeared in Johnson's 
Museum, and Mr T. had inquired whether they were our bard's.— Curkie. 



REMARKS ON SCOTTISH SONGS. 99 

with the Newcastle post-mark on it. 1 Whistle o'er the Lave o't is 
mine : the music said to be by a John Bruce, a celebrated violin- 
player in Dumfries, about the beginning of this century. This I 
know — Bruce, who was an honest man, though a red-wud Highland- 
man, constantly claimed it ; and by the old musical people here, is 
believed to be the author of it. 

Andrew and Ids cutty Gun. — The song to which this is set 
in the Museum is mine, and was composed on Miss Euphemia 
Murray, of Lintrose, commonly and deservedly called The Flower 
of Strathmore. 

How long and dreary is the Night! — I met with some such words in 
a collection of songs somewhere, which I altered and enlarged ; and 
to please you, and to suit your favourite air, I have taken a stride or 
two across my room, and have arranged it anew, as you will find on 
the other page. 

1 The reader will be curious to see this poem, so highly praised by Burns. Here 
it is:— 

*Keen blaws the wind o'er Donocht-Head, 1 

The snaw drives snelly through the dale, 
The gaberlunzie tirls my sneck, 

And, shivering, tells his waefu' tale. 
" Cauld is the night, oh, let me in, 

And dinna let your minstrel fa', 
And dinna let his winding-sheet 

Be naething but a wreath o' snaw. 

" Full ninety winters hae I seen, 

And piped where gor-cocks whirring flew, 
And mony a day I've danced, I ween, 

To hits which from my drone I blew." 
My Eppie waked, and soon she cried : 

" Get up, guidman, and let him in ; 
For weel ye ken the winter night 

Was short when he began his din." 

My Eppie's voice, oh, wow it's sweet, 

Even though she bans and scaulds a wee; 
But when it's tuned to sorrow's tale, 

Oh, haith, it's doubly dear to me! 
" Come in, auld carl, I'll steer my fire, 

I'll make it bleeze a bonnie flame; 
Your bluid is thin, ye've tint the gate, 

Ye shoiddna stray sae far frae hame." 

" Nae hame have I," the minstrel said ; 

" Sad party-strife o'erturned my ha'; 
And, weeping at the eve of life, 

I wander through a wreath o' snaw." ' 

This affecting poem is apparently incomplete. The author need not be ashamed 
to own himself. It is worthy of Burns, or of Macneill. — Currie. [It was written 
bjf a gentleman of Newcastle, named Pickering.] 



I A mountain in the nortn. 



100 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



HOW LONG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT f 

Tune — Cauld Kail in Aberdeen. 

How long and dreary is the night 

When I am frae my dearie! 
I restless lie frae e'en to morn, 

Though I were ne'er sae weary. 

CHORUS. 

For oh, her lanely nights are lang ! 

And oh, her dreams are eerie ! 
And oh, her widowed heart is sair, 

That 's absent frae her dearie ! 

When I think on the lightsome days 

I spent wi' thee, my dearie, 
And now what seas between us roar, 

How can I be but eerie ? 

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours ! 

The joyless day, how dreary ! 
It was na sae ye glinted by, 

When I was wi' my dearie ! 

Tell me how you like this. I differ from your idea of the expres- 
sion of the tune. There is, to me, a great deal of tenderness in it. 
You cannot, in my opinion, dispense with a bass to your addenda 
airs. A lady of my acquaintance, a noted performer, plays Nae 
Luck about the House, and sings it at the same time so charmingly, 
that I shall never bear to see any of her songs sent into the 
world, as naked as Mr What-d'ye-call-um has done in his London 
collection. 1 

These English songs gravel me to death. I have not that command 
of the language that I have of my native tongue. In fact, I think 
my ideas are more barren in English than in Scotch. I have been 
at Duncan Gray, to dress it in English, but all I can do is deplorably 
Btupid. For instance : — 



LET NOT WOMAN E'ER COMPLAIN. 
Tune— Duncan Gray. 

Let not woman e'er complain 
Of inconstancy in love ; 

Let not woman e'er complain 
Fickle man is apt to rove : 

l Mr Ritson. 



x BONG ON CHLORIS. 101 

Look abroad through Nature's range, 
Nature's mighty law is change ; 
Ladies, would it not be strange, 
Man should then a monster prove ? 

Mark the winds, and mark the skies ; 

Ocean's ebb, and ocean's flow • 
Sun and moon but set to rise, 

Eound and round the seasons go. 

Why, then, ask of silly man 
To oppose great Nature's plan ? 
We'll be constant while we can — 
You can be no more, you know. 

Since the above, I have been out in the country taking a dinner 
with sl friend, where I met with the lady whom I mentioned in the 
second page in this odds-and-ends of a letter. 1 As usual, I got into 
song ; and returning home, I composed the following : — 



THE LOVER'S MORNING SALUTE TO HIS MISTRESS. 
Tune— Beil tdk the Wars. 

Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature ? 

Kosy Morn now lifts his eye, 
Numbering ilka bud which nature 

Waters wi' the tears o' joy : 

Now through the leafy woods, 

And by the reeking floods, 
Wild nature's tenants freely, gladly stray; 

The lintwhite in his bower 

Chants o'er the breathing flower; 

The lav'rock to the sky 

Ascends wi' sangs o' joy, 
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day. 

Phoebus gilding the brow o' morning, 

Banishes ilk darksome shade, 
Nature gladd'ning and adorning; 

Such to me my lovely maid. 

When absent frae my fair, 

The murky shades o' care 

1 An account of this lady is given a few pages onward. 






1Q2 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

"With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky; 

But when in beauty's light, 

She meets my ravished sight, 

When through my very heart 

Her beaming glories dart — 
'Tis then I wake to life, to light, and joy ! 1 

If you honour my verses by setting the air to them, I will vamp 
up the old song, and make it English enough to be understood. 

I enclose you a musical curiosity, an East Indian air, which you 
would swear was a Scottish one. I know the authenticity of it, 
as the gentleman who brought it over is a particular acquaintance 
of mine. Do preserve me the copy I send you, as it is the only 
one I have. Clarke has set a bass to it, and I intend putting it into 
the Musical Museum. Here follow the verses I intend for it : — 

THE AULD MAN. 

But lately seen in gladsome green, 

The woods rejoiced the day; 
Through gentle showers the laughing flowers 

In double pride were gay : 
But now our joys are fled 

On winter#>lasts awa ! 
Yet maiden May, in rich array, 

Again shall bring them a'. 

But my white pow, nae kindly thowe head 

Shall melt the snaws of age ; 
My trunk of eild, but buss or beild, senility without 

Sinks in Time's wintry rage. 
Oh, age has weary days, 

And nights o' sleepless pain ! 
Thou golden time o' youthful prime, 

Why com'st thou not again ? 

1 Variation :— 

Now to the streaming fountain, 

Or up the heathy mountain, 
The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray; 

In twining hazel bowers 

His lay the linnet pours ; 

The lav'rock to the sky 

Ascends wi' sangs o' joy, 
"While the sun and thou arise to bless the day. 

When frae my Chloris parted, 

Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted, 
The night's gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o'ercast my sky: 

But when she charms my sight, 

In pride of beauty's light; 

When through my very heart 

Her beaming glories dart— 
'Tis then, 'tis then I wake to life and joy 1— Cukrus. 



ACCOUNT OF CHLORIS. 103 

I would be obliged to you, if you would procure me a sight of 
Ritson's collection of English songs which you mention in your 
letter. I will thank you for another information, and that as 
speedily as you please : whether this miserable, drawling, hotch- 
potch epistle has not completely tired you of my correspondence ? 

The story of the Chloris of Burns is not much less romantic 
than that of Clarinda. At the time when the poet came to Ellis- 
land, Mr William Lorimer, a substantial farmer, planted himself 
at Kemmis-hall, on the opposite side of the Nith, about two miles 
nearer Dumfries. Mr Lorimer had realised some wealth in conse- 
quence of an extremely favourable lease, and he now, in addition to 
farming, carried on extensive mercantile transactions in Dumfries 
and at Kemmis-hall. It was in consequence of his dealing in teas 
and spirits that he fell under the attention of the poet, who then 
protected the revenue interests in ten parishes. Burns became 
intimate with the Lorimers. They scarcely ever had company at 
their house, without inviting him: they often sent him delicacies 
from their farm; and whenever he passed their way on his pro- 
fessional tours, Mrs Lorimer was delighted to minister to his 
comforts with a basin of tea, or whatever else he might please to 
have. A daughter of the family recollects seeing many letters 
of his addressed to her father: one contained only the words, 
' Coming, sir;' a quaint answer, probably, to some friendly note of 
invitation. No fiscal visitor was ever so liked as he; but then, he 
was the most good-natured of such visitors — of which one little 
circumstance, recollected by the person above mentioned, may be 
sufficient proof. Having arrived one evening, and without Mrs 
Lorimer's knowledge, put up his horse in the stable, he came 
in by the back entrance, and so into the kitchen, where the 
lady was busy in the preparation of a considerable quantity of 
candles for home consumption — candles being then an excisable 
article. He looked not — he stopped not — but only remarking : 
'Faith, ma'am, you're thrang to-night,' passed hastily on to the 
parlour. 

Mr Lorimer's eldest daughter Jean was at this time a very 
young lady, but possessed of uncommon personal charms. Her 
form was symmetry itself, and, notwithstanding hair of flaxen 
lightness, the beauty of her face was universally admired. A 
Mr Gillespie, a brother-officer of Burns, settled at Dumfries, 
was already enslaved by Miss Lorimer ; and to his suit the 
poet lent all his influence. But it was in vain. Miss Lori- 
mer became the wife of another, under somewhat extraordinary 
circumstances. A young gentleman named Whelpdale, con- 
nected with the county of Cumberland, and who had already 



104 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

signalised himself by profuse habits, settled at Barnhill, near 
Moffat, as a farmer. He was acquainted with a respectable 
family named Johnston at Drumcrieff, near Craigieburn, where 
Miss Lorimer visited. He thus became acquainted with the 
young beauty. He paid his addresses to her, and it is sup- 
posed that she was not adverse to his suit. One night, in 
March 1793, when the poor girl was still some months less 
than eighteen years of age, and of course possessed of little 
prudence or knowledge of the world, he took her aside, and 
informed her that he could no< longer live except as her husband ; 
he therefore entreated her to elope with him that very night 
to Gretna Green, in order that they might be married, and 
threatened to do himself some extreme mischief if she should 
refuse. A hard -wrung consent to this most imprudent step 
fixed her fate to sorrow for life. The pair had not been united 
for many months, when Mr Whelpdale was obliged by his 
debts to remove hastily from Barnhill, leaving his young wife 
no resource but that of returning to her parents at Kemmis- 
hall. She saw her husband no more for twenty-three years ! 

Though Burns had now removed to Dumfries, his intimacy 
with the Kemmis-hall family was kept up — and, let it be remarked, 
he was not intimate with them merely as an individual, but as the 
head of a family, for his wife was as much the friend and associate 
of the Lorimers as himself, though perhaps less frequently at their 
house. When Jean returned thither in her worse than widowed 
state, she was still under nineteen, and in the full blaze of her 
uncommon beauty. It was now that she fell more particularly 
under the notice of the Ayrshire poet. She became his poetical 
divinity under the appellation of Chloris — a ridiculous appellative 
of the pastoral poets v of a past age, but which, somehow, does not 
appear ridiculous in the verse of Burns. He is found in Sep- 
tember 1794 — at which time she was exactly nineteen — beginning 
to celebrate her in the series of songs of which two or three 
have already been introduced. With the feelings of the poetical 
admirer, there appear to have been mingled the compassionate 
tenderness due to the hapless fate of his young heroine. Such a 
feeling he expressed in his best style in an inscription on a book 
presented to her. 

TO CHLORIS. 

'Tis Friendship's pledge, my young, fair friend, 

Nor thou the gift refuse, 
Nor with unwilling ear attend 

The moralising Muse. 



LATTER HISTORY OF CHLORIS. 105 

Since thou, in all thy youth and charms, 

Must bid the world adieu, 
(A world 'gainst peace in constant arms) 

To join the friendly few : 

Since thy gay morn of life o'ercast, 

Chill came the tempest's lower ; 
(And ne'er misfortune's eastern blast 

Did nip a fairer flower :) 

Since life's gay scenes must charm no more j 

Still much is left behind ; 
Still nobler wealth hast thou in store — 

The comforts of the mind ! 

Thine is the self-approving glow, 

On conscious honour's part ; 
And, dearest gift of Heaven below, 

Thine friendship's truest heart. 

The joys refined of sense and taste, 

With every Muse to rove : 
And doubly were the poet blest, 

These joys could he improve. 

We shall see that during the whole of this autumn and winter, 
Burns was in the full glow of poetical worship towards Mrs Whelp- 
dale, till he had celebrated her charms in no fewer than eleven 
songs, some of which are amongst the happiest of his compositions. 
The case was literally as he himself states it. Fascinated by the 
beauty of this young creature, he erected her as the goddess of 
his inspiration, at the same time that respect for her intelligence 
and pity for her misfortunes were sufficient, supposing the absence 
of other restraints, to debar all unholier thoughts. 

The subsequent history of the lady is pitiful. Some years after 
this outpouring of poesy in her praise, her father was unfortunate 
in business, and ceased to be the wealthy man he once was. The 
tuneful tongue which had sung her praise was laid in silence in 
Dumfries church-yard. She continued to derive no income from 
her husband, and scarcely even to know in what part of the world 
he lived. She was now, therefore, compelled to accept of a situation 
as plain governess in a gentleman's family; and in such situations 
she passed some years of her life. In 181G, returning from a 
visit to her brother in Sunderland, she inquired at Brampton 
for her husband, and learned that she had only missed seeing 
him by a few hours, as he had that day been in the village. 
He was now squandering some fourth or fifth fortune, which 



106 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

had been left to him by a relation. Not long after, learning that 
he was imprisoned for debt at Carlisle, she went to see him. 
Having announced to him her wish for an interview, she went 
to the place where he was confined, and was desired to walk 
in. His lodging was pointed out to her on the opposite side of 
a quadrangle, round which there was a covered walk, as in the 
ambulatories of the ancient religious houses. As she walked 
along one side of this court, she passed a man whose back was 
towards her — a bulky -looking person, slightly paralytic, and who 
shuffled in walking, as from lameness. As she approached the 
door, she heard this man pronounce her name. 'Jean!' he said, 
and then immediately added, as under a more formal feeling, 
' Mrs Whelpdale! ' It was her husband — the gay youth of 1793 
being now transformed into a broken-down middle-aged man, 
whom she had passed without even suspecting who he was. The 
wife had to ask the figure if he was her husband, and the figure 
answered that he was. To such a scene may a romantic marriage 
lead ! There was kindness, nevertheless, between the long-sepa- 
rated pair. Jean spent a month in Carlisle, calling upon her 
husband every day, and then returned to Scotland. Some months 
afterwards, when he had been liberated, she paid him another visit ; 
but his utter inability to make a prudent use of any money 
intrusted to him, rendered it quite impossible that they should ever 
renew their conjugal life. After this, she never saw him again. 

It is understood that this poor, unprotected woman at length 
was led into an error which lost her the respect of society. She 
spent some time in a kind of vagrant life, verging on mendicancy, 
and never rising above the condition of a domestic servant. She 
never ceased to be elegant in her form and comely of face ; nor 
did she ever cease to recollect that she had been the subject of 
some dozen compositions by one of the greatest modern masters 
of the lyre. About the year 1825, a benevolent gentleman, to 
whom she had made her penury known, bestirred himself in her 
behalf, and represented her case in the public prints, with the 
hope of drawing forth a little money for her relief. His wife, 
having sent her some newspapers containing the paragraphs which 
he had written, received the following note, in which we cannot help 
thinking there is something not unworthy of a poetical heroine : — 

'Burns's Chloris is infinitely obliged to Mrs for her kind 

attention in sending the newspapers, and feels pleased and flattered 
by having so much said and done in her behalf. 

Ruth was kindly and generously treated by Boaz ; perhaps Burns's 
Chloris may enjoy a similar fate in the fields of men of talent and 
worth. 

March 2, 1625.' 






LETTER TO MR PETER HILL. 107 

The lady here addressed saw Mrs Whelpdale several times, 
and was pleased with her conversation, which shewed con- 
siderable native acuteness of understanding, and a play of wit such 
as might have been supposed to charm a high intellect in one of 
the opposite sex. Afterwards, our heroine obtained a situation 
as housekeeper with a gentleman residing in Newington, and there 
she lived for some time in the enjoyment, she said, of greater 
comfort than she had known since she first left her father's 
house. But a pulmonary affection of a severe nature gradually 
undermined her health, and she was ultimately obliged to retire 
to a humble lodging in Middleton's Entry, Potterrow, near the 
place where Burns had first met with Clarinda. Here she lingered 
for some time in great suffering, being chiefly supported by her 
late master; and here, in September 1831, she breathed her last. 
Her remains were interred in Newington burying-ground. Her 
husband, who latterly lived at Langholm, in Dumfriesshire, on a 
small pension, survived her three or four years. 

Poor Chloris is a sad memento of the evils which spring to 
woman from one rash step in what is, for that sex, the most 
important movement in life. Life was to her clouded in its 
morn : every grace that Heaven gives to make woman a charm and 
a solace to man, was possessed in vain ; all through this false 
step, taken, though it was, at a time when she could scarcely be 
considered as responsible for her own actions. 

In an inedited passage of the last letter, our passion-swayed 
poet alludes to Clarinda, as 'a ci-devant goddess of mine!' It 
was right, even in these poetico-Platonic affairs, to be off with the 
old love before he was on with the new. Yet it was only four 
months before, only in June, that she was ' my ever-dearest 
Clarinda ! ' And a letter of friendship was then too cold to be 
attempted. Oh woman -kind, think of that when you are 
addressed otherwise than in the language of sober common-sense ! 
So lately as June, ' my ever-dearest,' and now only ' a ci-devant 
goddess !' 

We turn to lighter matters. 



TO MR PETER HILL, EDINBURGH. 

[Dumfries, end of October 1794 ?] 
My dear Hill — By a carrier of yesterday, Henry Osborn by 
name, I sent you a kippered salmon, 1 which I trust you will duly 
receive, and which I also trust will give you many a toothful of 

i A salmon cut up and dried in the smoke of the chimney— a favourite break. 
fast relish in Scotland. 



108 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

satisfaction. If you have the confidence to say, that there is anything 
of the kind in all your great city superior to this in true kipper 
relish and flavour, I will be revenged by — not sending you another 
next season. In return, the first party of friends that dine with you 
— provided that your fellow-travellers and my trusty and well- 
beloved veterans in intimacy, Messrs Ramsay and Cameron, 1 be of 
the party — about that time in the afternoon when a relish or devil 
becomes grateful, give them two or three slices of the kipper, and 
drink a bumper to your friends in Dumfries. Moreover, by last 
Saturday's fly, I sent you a hare, which I hope came, and carriage- 
free, safe to your hospitable mansion and social table. So much 
for business. 

How do you like the following pastoral, which I wrote the other 
day, for a tune that I daresay you well know? 

[Follows the song, Co? the Yowes to the Knoives.~] 

And how do you like the following ? — 

ON SEEING MRS KEMBLE IN YARICO. 

Kemble, thou cur'st my unbelief 

Of Moses and his rod ; 
At Yarico's sweet notes of grief 

The rock with tears had flowed. 2 



Or this ?- 



ON W R , ESQ. 



So vile was poor Wat, such a miscreant slave, 
That the worms even damned him when laid in his grave ; 
* In his skull there is famine ! ' a starved reptile cries ; 
' And his heart it is poison ! * another replies. 

My best good-wishes to Mrs Hill, and believe me to be, ever 
yours, R. Burns. 3 

1 Mr Ramsay was printer of that venerable journal, the Edinburgh Evening 
Courant, which still partly belongs to his family. Mr Cameron was a paper manu- 
facturer. These two gentlemen seem to have recently been at Dumfries, along 
with Mr Hill, on which occasion there would of course be a merry-meeting with 



2 ' On Friday last, our theatre received a great acquisition in the favourite opera 
of Inkle and Yarico, by the first appearance of Mrs Kemble, in the amiable an<J 
interesting character of Yarico. Her excellent performance of that character has 
been the subject of high panegyric. We can only join our tribute to her estab- 
lished reputation, by observing that her delineations were striking, natural, and 
affecting, and commanded the attention and applause of an elegant audience. The 
farce was Animal Magnetism, &c.' — Dumfries Journal, Oct. 21, 1794. The actress in 
question was the wife of Mr Stephen Kemble, a senior brother in a family which 
has given at least three distinguished ornaments to the British stage. Mr S. 
Kemble composed a very pleasing song on the occasion of the death of Burns. 

3 This letter appeared in the Knickerbocker (New York Magazine) for September 
1848. On another copy of the epigram on Mrs Kemble, it appears that the per- 
formance of Inkk and Yarico which Burns witnessed, took place on the 24th of 
October 1794. 



Allan's picture of maggie lauder. 109 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Edinburgh, 2]th October 1794. 

I AM sensible, my dear friend, that a genuine poet can no 
more exist without his mistress than his meat. I wish I knew 
the adorable she, whose bright eyes and witching smiles have so 
often enraptured the Scottish bard, that I might drink her sweet 
health when the toast is going round. Craigiebum Wood must 
certainly be adopted into my family, since she is the object of the 
song ; but, in the name of decency, I must beg a new chorus-verse 
from you. to be lying beyond thee, dearie, is perhaps a consum- 
mation to be wished, but will not do for singing in the company of 
ladies. The songs in your last will do you lasting credit, and suit 
the respective airs charmingly. I am perfectly of your opinion with 
respect to the additional airs. The idea of sending them into the 
world naked as they were born, was ungenerous. They must all be 
clothed, and made decent by our friend Clarke. 

I find I am anticipated by the friendly Cunningham in sending you 
Ritson's Scottish collection. Permit me, therefore, to present you 
with his English collection, which you will receive by the coach. I 
do not find his historical essay on Scottish song interesting. Your 
anecdotes and miscellaneous remarks will, I am sure, be much more 
so. Allan has just sketched a charming design from Maggie Lauder. 
She is dancing with such spirit as to electrify the piper, who seems 
almost dancing too, while he is playing with the most exquisite glee. 
I am much inclined to get a small copy, and to have it engraved in 
the style of Ritson's prints. 

P.S. — Pray, what do your anecdotes say concerning Maggie 
Lauder? — was she a real personage, and of what rank? You would 
surely speerfor her, if you cdd at Anstei town. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

November 1794. 
Many thanks to you, my dear sir, for your present ; it is a book 
of the utmost importance to me. I have yesterday begun my 
Vecdotes, &c. for your work. I intend drawing them up in the form 
of a letter to you, which will save me from the tedious, dull business 
of systematic arrangement. Indeed, as all I have to say consists of 
unconnected remarks, anecdotes, scraps of old songs, &c. it would be 
impossible to give the work a beginning, a middle, and an end, which 
the critics insist to be absolutely necessary in a work. In my last, 
I told you my objections to the song you had selected for My Lodging 
is on the cold Ground. On my visit the other day to my fair Chloris 
— that is the poetic name of the lovely goddess of my inspiration — • 
she suggested an idea, which I, on my return from the visit, wrought 
into the following song : — 



110 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



MY CHLORIS, MARK HOW GREEN THE GROVES. 
Tune — My Lodging is on the cold Ground. 

My Chloris, mark how green the groves, 
The primrose banks how fair; 

The balmy gales awake the flowers, 
And wave thy flaxen hair. 

The lav'rock shuns the palace gay, 

And o'er the cottage sings : 
For nature smiles as sweet, I ween, 

To shepherds as to kings. 

Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string 

In lordly lighted ha' : 
The shepherd stops his simple reed, 

Blithe, in the birken shaw. 

The princely revel may survey 

Our rustic dance wi' scorn ; 
But are their hearts as light as ours 

Beneath the milk-white thorn ? 

The shepherd, in the flowery glen, 
In shepherd's phrase will woo : 

The courtier tells a finer tale, 
But is his heart as true ? 

These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck 

That B spotless breast o' thine : 
The courtier's gems may witness love — 

But 'tis na love like mine. 



How do you like the simplicity and tenderness of this pastoral! 
I think it pretty well. 

I like you for entering so candidly and so kindly into the story of 
i ma chere amie? I assure you, I was never more in earnest in my 
life, than in the account of that affair which I sent you in my last. 
Conjugal love is a passion which I deeply feel and highly venerate; 
but, somehow, it does not make such a figure in poesy as that other 
species of the passion — 

"Where love is liberty, and nature law. 

Musically speaking, the first is an instrument of which the gamut is 
scanty and confined, but the tones inexpressibly sweet, while the last 
has powers equal to all the intellectual modulations of the human 
soul. Still, I am a very poet in my enthusiasm of the passion. The 
welfare and happiness of the beloved object is the first and inviolate 



1 CHARMING CHL01.' Ill 

sentiment that pervades my soul ; and whatever pleasures I might 
wish for, or whatever might be the raptures they would give me, 
yet, if they interfere with that first principle, it is having these 
pleasures at a dishonest price; and justice forbids, and generosity 
disdains, the purchase ! . . . . 

Despairing of my own powers to give you variety enough in 
English songs, I have been turning over old collections, to pick out 
songs, of which the measure is something similar to what I want ; 
and, with a little alteration, so as to suit the rhythm of the air 
exactly, to give you them for your work. Where the songs have 
hitherto been but little noticed, nor have ever been set to music, I 
think the shift a fair one. A song which, under the same first verse, 
you will find in Ramsay's Tea-table Miscellany, I have cut down for 
an English dress to your Dainty Davie, as follows : — 



IT WAS THE CHARMING MONTH OF MAY. 

Tune— Dainty Davie. 

It was the charming month of May, 
When all the flowers were fresh and gay, 
One morning, by the break of day, 

The youthful, charming Chloe ; 
From peaceful slumber she arose, 
Girt on her mantle and her hose, 
And o'er the flowery mead she goes, 

The youthful, charming Chloe. 



Lovely was she by the dawn, 

Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe, 

Tripping o'er the pearly lawn, 
The youthful, charming Chloe. 

The feathered people, you might see 
Perched all around on every tree, 
In notes of sweetest melody 

They hail the charming Chloe ; 
Till, painting gay the eastern skies, 
The glorious sun began to rise, 
Out-rivalled by the radiant eyes 

Of youthful, charming Chloe. 

You may think meanly of this, but take a look at the bombast 
original, and you will be surprised that I have made so much of it. 
I have finished my song to Rothem.ur chic's Rant, and you have Clarke 
\> consult as to the set of the air for singing. 



112 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



LASSIE Wl' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS. 
Tvnm—Rothemurchie's Rant. 



Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, 

Bonnie lassie, artless lassie, 
"Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks, 

Wilt thou be my dearie O ? 

Now Nature deeds the flowery lea, 
And a' is young and sweet like thee : 
Oh, wilt thou share its joys wi' me, 
And say thou 'It be my dearie 0? 

And when the welcome simmer-shower 
Has cheered ilk drooping little flower, 
"We'll to the breathing woodbine bower 
At sultry noon, my dearie 0. 

When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray, 
The weary shearer's hameward way, 
Through yellow waving fields we'll stray, 
And talk o' love, my dearie 0. 

And when the howling wintry blast 
Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest, 
Enclasped to my faithful breast, 
I'll comfort thee, my dearie O. 

This piece has at least the merit of being a regular pastoral : the 
vernal morn, the summer noon, the autumnal evening, and the 
winter night, are regularly rounded. If you like it, well ; if not, I 
will insert it in the Museum. 

I am out of temper that you should set so sweet, so tender an air, 
as Deil talc the Wars, to the foolish old verses. You talk of the silli- 
ness of Saw ye my Father? 1 — By Heavens! the odds is gold to brass! 
Besides, the old song, though now pretty well modernised into the 
Scottish language, is originally, and in the early editions, a bungling 
low imitation of the Scottish manner, by that genius Tom D'Urfey, 
so has no pretensions to be a Scottish production. There is a pretty 
English song by Sheridan, in the Duenna, to this air, which is out 
of sight superior to D'Urfey's. It begins — 

"When sable night each drooping plant restoring. 

The air, if I understand the expression of it properly, is the very 

1 Mr Thomson must have completely misunderstood the character of this old 
song. It is a most romantic one, clothed in highly poetical language. 



TUNE OF ' YE BANKS AND BRAES.' 113 

native language of simplicity, tenderness, and love. I have again 
gone over my song to the tune as follows. 

[Here Burns transcribes his new version of Sleep' st thou, or Wak'st thou 9 contain, 
ing the slight variations which have already been given.] 

Now for my English song to Nancy 's to the Greenwood, &c. 



FAREWELL, THOU STREAM THAT WINDING FLOWS. 

Farewell, thou stream that winding flows 
Around Eliza's dwelling! 

mem'ry ! spare the cruel throes 
Within my bosom swelling : 

Condemned to drag a hopeless chain, 

And yet in secret languish, 
To feel a fire in every vein, 

Nor dare disclose my anguish. 

Love's veriest wretch, unseen, unknown, 

I fain my griefs would cover : 
The bursting sigh, th' unweeting groan, 

Betray the hapless lover. 

1 know thou doom'st me to despair, 

Nor wilt, nor canst relieve me ; 
But, oh ! Eliza, hear one prayer, 
For pity's sake forgive me ! 

The music of thy voice I heard, 

Nor wist while it enslaved me ; 
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing feared, 

Till fears no more had saved me. 
Th' unwary sailor thus aghast, 

The wheeling torrent viewing, 
'Mid circling horrors sinks at last 

In overwhelming ruin. 

[It will be ooserved, that this is a new and improved version of the song sent In 
April of the preceding year, beginning, The last Time I came o'er the Moor. The 
change most remarkable is the substitution of Eliza for Maria. The alienation of 
Mrs Riddel, and his resentment against her, must have rendered the latter name no 
longer tolerable to him. One only can wonder that, with his new and painful 
associations regarding that lady, he could endure the song itself or propose laying 
it before the world.] 

There is another air, The Caledonian Hunt's Delight, to which I 
wrote a song that you will find in Johnson, Ye Banks and Braes o' 
bonnie Doon; this air, I think, might find a place among your 
hundred, as Lear says of his knights. Do you know the history of 
the air? It is curious enough. A good many years ago, Mr James 



114 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Miller, writer in your good town, a gentleman whom possibly you 
know, was in company with our friend Clarke; and talking of 
Scottish music, Miller expressed an ardent ambition to be able to 
compose a Scots air. Mr Clarke, partly by way of joke, told him 
to keep to the black keys of the harpsichord, and preserve some kind 
of rhythm, and he would infallibly compose a Scots air. Certain it is 
that, in a few days, Mr Miller produced the rudiments of an air, 
which Mr Clarke, with some touches and corrections, fashioned 
into the tune in question. 1 Ritson, you know, has the same stoiw of 
the black keys ; but this account which I have just given you, Mr 
Clarke informed me of several years ago. Now, to shew you how 
difficult it is to trace the origin of our airs, I have heard it 
repeatedly asserted that this was an Irish air ; nay, I met with an 
Irish gentleman, who affirmed he had heard it in Ireland among the 
old women; while, on the other hand, a lady of fashion, no less 
than a countess, informed me, that the first person who introduced 
the air into this country, was a baronet's lady of her acquaintance, 
who took down the notes from an itinerant piper in the Isle of 
Man. How difficult, then, to ascertain the truth respecting our 
poesy and music! I, myself, have lately seen a couple of ballads 
sung through the streets of Dumfries, with my name at the head 
of them as the author, though it was the first time I had ever 
seen them. 

I thank you for admitting Craigieburn Wood, and I shall take 
care to furnish you with a new chorus. In fact, the chorus was not 
my work, but a part of some old verses to the air. If I can catch 
myself in a more than ordinarily propitious moment, I shall write 
a new Craigieburn Wood altogether. My heart is much in the 
theme. 

I am ashamed, my dear fellow, to make the request — 'tis dunning 
your generosity ; but in a moment when I had forgotten whether 
I was rich or poor, I promised Chloris a copy of your songs. It 
wrings my honest pride to write you this; but an ungracious request 
is doubly so by a tedious apology. To make you some amends, 
as soon as I have extracted the necessary information out of them, 
I will return you Ritson's volumes. 

The lady is not a little proud that she is to make so distinguished 
a figure in your collection, and I am not a little proud that I have 
it in my power to please her so much. Lucky it is for your patience 
that my paper is done, for when I am in a scribbling humour, I 
know not when to give over. 

What Mr Thomson said in answer, shews how little it is 
possible to tell beforehand how any air is to be taken up by, or 
to succeed with the public. 

1 Mr Miller served for many years as clerk in the Teind Office, Edinburgh- 



DUET OF ' PHILLY AND WILLY.' 115 

MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

15th November lfaw. 

My good Sir — Since receiving your last, I have had another 
interview with Mr Clarke, and a long consultation. He thinks the 
Caledonian Hunt is more bacchanalian than amorous in its nature, 
and recommends it to you to match the air accordingly. Pray, did it 
ever occur to you how peculiarly well the Scottish airs are adapted 
for verses in the form of a dialogue ? The first part of the air is gene- 
rally low, and suited for a man's voice ; ard the second part, in many 
instances, cannot be sung, at concert pitch, but by a female voice. 
A song thus performed makes an agreeable variety, but few of ours 
are written in this form : I wish you would think of it in some of 
those that remain. The only one of the kind you have sent me is 
admirable, and will be a universal favourite. 

Your verses for Rothemurchie are so sweetly pastoral, and your 
serenade to Ohloris, for Deil tah the Wars, so passionately tender, 
that I have sung myself into raptures with them. Your song for 
My Lodging is on the cold Ground, is likewise a diamond of the first- 
water: I am quite dazzled and delighted by it. Some of your 
Chlorises, I suppose, have flaxen hair, from your partiality for this 
colour — else we differ about it; for I should scarcely conceive a 
woman to be a beauty, on reading that she had lint-white locks. 

Farewell, thou Stream that winding flows, I think excellent, but it 
is much too serious to come after Nancy — at least it would seem an 
incongruity to provide the same air with merry Scottish and melan- 
choly English verses ! The more that the two sets of verses resemble 
each other in their general character, the better. Those you have 
manufactured for Dainty Davie will answer charmingly. I am 
happy to find you have begun your anecdotes : I care not how long 
they be, for it is impossible that anything from your pen can be 
tedious. Let me beseech you not to use ceremony in telling me 
when you wish to present any of your friends with the songs : the 
next carrier will bring you three copies, and you are as welcome to 
twenty as to a pinch of snuff. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

19th November 1794. 
You see, my dear sir, what a punctual correspondent I am ; though, 
indeed, you may thank yourself for the tedium, of my letters, as you 
have so flattered me on my horsemanship with my favourite hobby, 
and have praised the grace of his ambling so much, that I am scarcely 
ever off his oack. For instance, this morning, though a keen blow- 
ing frost, in my walk before breakfast, I finished my duet, which 
you were pleased to praise so much. Whether I have uniformly 



116 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

succeeded, I will not say ; but here it is for you, though it is not an 
h«>ur old. 

PHILLY AND WILLY. 

Tote— The Sow's Tail. 



O Philly, happy be that day, 
When roving through the gathered hay, 
My youthfu' heart was stown away, 
And by thy charms, my Philly. 



O Willy, aye I bless the grove 
Where first I owned my maiden love, 
Whilst thou didst pledge the powers above 
To be my ain dear Willy. 

HE. 

As songsters of the early year 
Are ilka day mair sweet to hear, 
So ilka day to me mair dear 
And charming is my Philly. 



As on the brier the budding rose 
Still richer breathes and fairer blows, 
So in my tender bosom grows 
The love I bear my Willy. 

HE. 

The milder sun and bluer sky, 
That crown my harvest cares wi' joy, 
Were ne'er sae welcome to my eye 
As is a sight o' Philly. 



The little swallow's wanton wing, 
Though wafting o'er the flowery spring, 
Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring, 
As meeting o' my Willy. 



The bee that through the sunny hour 
Sips nectar in the opening flower, 
Compared wi' my delight is poor, 
Upon the lips o' Philly. 



VULGARITY IS NOT SIMPLICITY. 117 



The woodbine in the dewy weet, 
When evening shades in silence meet, 
Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet 
As is a kiss o' Willy. 

HE. 

Let fortune's wheel at random rin, 
And fools may tyne, and knaves may win ; 
My thoughts are a' bound up in ane, 
And that's my ain dear Philly. 



What's a' the joys that gowd can gie ? 
I care na wealth a single flie ; 
The lad I love 's the lad for me, 
And that's my ain dear Willy. 

Tell me honestly how you like it, and point out whatever you 
think faulty. 

I am much pleased with your idea of singing our songs in alternate 
stanzas, and regret that you did not hint it to me sooner. In those 
that remain, I shall have it in my eye. I remember your objections 
to the name Philly, but it is the common abbreviation of Phillis. 
Sally, the only other name that suits, has, to my ear, a vulgarity 
about it, which unfits it for anything except burlesque. The legion 
of Scottish poetasters of the day, whom your brother- editor, Mr 
Ritson, ranks with me as my coevals, have always mistaken vulgarity 
for simplicity ; whereas, simplicity is as much eloignee from vulgarity 
on the one hand, as from affected point and puerile conceit on the 
other. 

I agree with you as to the air, Craigieburn Wood, that a chorus 
would in some degree spoil the effect, and shall certainly have none 
in my projected song to it. It is not, however, a case in point with 
Rothemurchie ; there, as in Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch, a chorus goes, 
to my taste, well enough. As to the chorus going first, that is the 
case with Roy's Wife, as well as Rothemurchie. In fact, in the first 
part of both tunes, the rhythm is so peculiar and irregular, and on 
that irregularity depends so much of their beauty, that we must e'en 
take them with all their wildness, and humour the verse accordingly. 
Leaving out the starting-note in both tunes, has, I think, an effect 
that no regularity could counterbalance the want of. 

Trv I ° R °y' s wife of Aldivalloch - 

™* \ O lassie wi' the lint-white locks, 
and 

™™™,.,» „,;+v. / Roy's wife of Aldivalloch. 
compare with, j Lasgie ^ ^ lint . white lockg> 

Poes not the tameness of the prefixed syllable strike you ? In the 



118 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

last case, with the true furor of genius, you strike at once into the 
wild originality of the air ; whereas, in the first insipid method, it is 
like the grating screw of the pins before the fiddle is brought into 
tune. This is my taste; if I am wrong, I beg pardon of the 
cognoscenti. 

The Caledonian Hunt is so charming, that it would make any 
subject in a song go down ; but pathos is certainly its native tongue. 
Scottish bacchanalians we certainly want, though the few we have 
are excellent. For instance, Todlin Hame is, for wit and humour, 
an unparalleled composition ; and Andrew and his cutty Gun is the 
work of a master. By the way, are you not quite vexed to think 
that those men of genius, for such they certainly were, who composed 
our fine Scottish lyrics, should be unknown ? It has given me many 
a heartache. Apropos to bacchanalian songs in Scottish, I composed 
one yesterday, for an air I like much — Lumps o' Pudding. 



CONTENTED Wl' LITTLE. 

Tune— Lumps o' Pudding. 

Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair, merry 

Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care, 

I gie them a skelp as they 're creepin' alang, 

Wi' a cog o' guid swats, and an auld Scottish sang. a le 

I whiles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought ; 

But man is a sodger, and life is a faught : 

My mirth and good-humour are coin in my pouch, 

And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch. 

A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa', f a t e 

A night o' guid-fellowship sowthers it a' : 
When at the blithe end of our journey at last, 
Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past ? 

Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way ; totter 
Be't to me, be 't frae me, e'en let the jade gae : 
Come ease, or come travail ; come pleasure, or pain, 
My warst word is : ' Welcome, and welcome again!' 

If you do not relish this air, I will send it to Johnson. 

Since yesterday's penmanship, I have framed a couple of English 
stanzas, by way of an English song to Roy's Wife. You will allow me, 
that in this instance my English corresponds in sentiment with the 
Scottish. 






DESCRIPTION OF THE STOCK AND HORN. 119 

CANST THOU LEAVE ME THUS, MY KATY? 
Tune— Roy's Wife. 



Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy ? 
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy? 
Well thou know'st my aching heart, 
And canst thou leave me thus for pity ? 

Is this thy plighted, fond regard, 

Thus cruelly to part, my Katy ? 
Is this thy faithful swain's reward — 

An aching, broken heart, my Katy ? 

Farewell ! and ne'er such sorrows tear 

That fickle heart of thine, my Katy ! 
Thou may'st find those will love thee dear — 

But not a love like mine, my Katy. 

AVell ! I think this, to be done in two or three turns across my 
room, and with two or three pinches of Irish Blackguard, is not so 
far amiss. You see I am determined to have my quantum of 
applause from somebody. 

Tell my friend Allan — for I am sure that we only want the trifling 
circumstance" of being known to one another, to be the best friends 
on earth — that I much suspect he has, in his plates, mistaken the 
figure of the stock and horn. I have, at last, gotten one, but it is a 
very rude instrument. It is composed of three parts : the stock, 
which is the hinder thigh-bone of a sheep, such as you see in a 
mutton ham ; the horn, which is a common Highland cow's horn, 
cut off at the smaller end, until the aperture be large enough to 
admit the stock to be pushed up through the horn until it be held by 
the thicker end of the thigh-bone ; and lastly, an oaten-reed, exactly 
cut and notched like that which you see every shepherd-boy have 
when the corn-stems are green and full-grown. The reed is not made 
fast in the bone, but is held by the lips, and plays loose in the smaller 
end of the stock ; while the stock, with the horn hanging on its 
larger end, is held by the hands in playing. The stock has six or 
seven ventages on the upper side, and one back-ventage, like the 
common flute. This of mine was made by a man from the braes of 
Athole, and is exactly what the shepherds wont to use in that 
country. 

However, either it is not quite properly bored in the holes, or else 
we have not the art of blowing it rightly; for we can make little of 
it. If Mr Allan chooses, I will send him a sight of mine, as I look 
on myself to be a kind of brother-brush with him. ' Pride in poets 
is nae sin ; ' and I will say it, that I look on Mr Allan and Mr Burns 
to be the only genuine and real painters of Scottish costume in the 
world. 



120 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

This song of Contented wV Little, and Cantie wi* Mair, deserves 
the reader's special attention, for it was intended by the poet as 
a picture of his mind. So he deliberately tells Mr Thomson in an 
inedited passage of a letter subsequently written (May 1795). 
Though comprising the bard's idea of what he was, it may of 
course have been an imperfect or an exaggerated portraiture, an 
autobiography not being necessarily the most correct delineation of 
a life. It will be admitted, however, that it is of some consequence 
in the biography of Burns, to see what was his own idea of him- 
self, as that idea is itself an important particular of his being and 
character. He regarded himself, then, as a soldier in the field of 
life, to whom it was useless, as it is for actual soldiers on duty, 
to indulge in melancholy complaints. He sometimes could not 
help yielding a little to dejection ; but the merry song and the 
flowing bowl were a specific to ' cure all again. 1 A single night 
of good-fellowship atoned for a twelvemonth of vexation. His 
liberty and his good-humour were solid possessions, of which 
he could not be deprived. His compensation for a dreary reach 
in the path of existence, was that he forgot it when it was passed. 
In pococurante lay his great resource. As to the varying results 
brought to his door by the tide of chance, he felt much as one who 
was in some degree his poetical prototype had felt : 

' Fortune that, with malicious joy, 

Does man, her slave, oppress, 
Proud of her office to destroy, 

Is seldom pleased to bless : 
Still various and inconstant still, 
But with an inclination to be ill, 

Promotes, degrades, delights in strife, 

And makes a lottery of life. 
I can enjoy her when she's kind, 
But when she dances in the wind, 

And shakes her wings, and will not stay, 

I puff the prostitute away. 
The little or the much she gave is quietly resigned : 

Content with poverty, my soul I arm ; 

And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.' > 

Such was Burns in his own idea — not his cool daylight idea, as 
he would have spoken of himself to a commissioner of excise, or 
a patronising member of parliament ; but his poetical idea — that 
which he would have avowed in those candle-light scenes in the 
Globe Tavern, which were to him a rough portion of the poetry 
of existence. And it really is Burns in one of his aspects, though 
only one. 

1 Horace, translated by Dryden. 



POETICAL CORRESPONDENCE WITH MRS RIDDEL. 121 

The other song, Canst thou leave me thus, my Katyf which he 
produced in two or three turns through his little room, under 
favour of two or three pinches of Irish Blackguard, is a poetical 
expression of the more gentle feeling he was now beginning to 
entertain towards Mrs Eiddel. Burns could not write verses on 
any woman without imaging her as a mistress, past, present, or 
potential. He, accordingly, treats the breach of friendship which 
had occurred between him and the fair hostess of Woodley Park 
as a falling away on her part from constancy in the tender 
passion. This may be felt as a curious whim as between two 
persons in their respective domestic circumstances, not to speak 
of that disparity of social rank which it is so difficult wholly to 
overcome, even in favour of the most divinely inspired genius. 
But it is at least pleasing, as the manifestation of an improve- 
ment of temper on Burns's part. It appears, moreover, that he 
sent the song to Mrs Eiddel, as a sort of olive branch, and 
that she did not receive it in an unkindly spirit, though probably 
without forgetting that the bard had wounded her delicacy. 
She answered the song in the same strain, and sent her own 
piece to Burns, for it was found by Currie amongst his papers 
after his death. Currie remarks only the odd circumstance, that 
she, an Englishwoman, answered in Scotch, a song written in 
English by a Scotchman. We may, at this distance from the 
events, remark the more important particular of the lady's readi- 
ness to take up Burns in the poetical relation in which he had 
depicted himself, and to meet him, after their sad winter of 
discontent, in a spring of fresh-blown kindness. 

STAY, MY WILLIE, YET BELIEVE ME. 

Stay, my Willie— yet believe me ; 

Stay, my Willie— yet believe me ; 

For, ah ! thou know'st na' every pang 

Wad wring my bosom shouldst thou leave me. 

Tell me that thou yet art true, 

And a' my wrongs shall be forgiven ; 
And when this heart proves fause to thee, 

Yon sun shall cease its course in heaven. 

But to think I was betrayed, 

That falsehood e'er our loves should sunder ! 
To take the flow'rct to my breast, 

And find the guilefu' serpent under. 

Could I hope thou 'dst ne'er deceive, 

Celestial pleasures, might I choose 'cm, 
I'd slight, nor seek in other spheres 

That heaven I'd find within thy bosom. 

iv. '•' 



122 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Stay, my Willie— yet believe me ; 

Stay, my Willie — yet believe me ; 

For, ab ! thou know'st na' every pang 

Wad wring my bosom shouldst thou leave me. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

28th November 1794. 

I acknowledge, my dear sir, you are not only the most punctual, 
but the most delectable correspondent I ever met with. To attempt 
flattering you never entered into my head ; the truth is, I look back 
with surprise at my impudence, in so frequently nibbling at lines 
and couplets of your incomparable lyrics, for which, perhaps, if you 
had served me right, you would have sent me to the devil. On the 
contrary, however, you have all along condescended to invite my 
criticism with so much courtesy, that it ceases to be wonderful if I 
have sometimes given myself the airs of a reviewer. Your last 
budget demands unqualified praise : all the songs are charming, but 
the duet is a chef-d'oeuvre. Lumps c? Pudding shall certainly make 
one of my family dishes ; you have cooked it so capitally, that it will 
please all palates. Do give us a few more of this cast when you 
find yourself in good spirits ; these convivial songs are more wanted 
than those of the amorous kind, of which we have great choice. 
Besides, one does not often meet with a singer capable of giving the 
proper effect to the latter, while the former are easily sung, and 
acceptable to everybody. I participate in your regret, that the 
authors of some of our best songs are unknown ; it is provoking to 
every admirer of genius. 

I mean to have a picture painted from your beautiful ballad, The 
Soldier's Return, to be engraved for one of my frontispieces. The 
most interesting point of time appears to me, when she first recog- 
nises her ain dear Willie : ' She gazed, she reddened like a rose.' 
The three lines immediately following are no doubt more impressive 
on the reader's feelings ; but were the painter to fix on these, then 
you'll, observe the animation and anxiety of her countenance is 
gone, and he could only represent her fainting in the soldier's arms. 
But I submit the matter to you, and beg your opinion. 

Allan desires me to thank you for your accurate description of 
the stock and horn, and for the very gratifying compliment you pay 
him, in considering him worthy of standing in a niche by the side of 
Burns in the Scottish Pantheon. He has seen the rude instrument 
you describe, so does not want you to send it; but wishes to know 
whether you believe it to have ever been generally used as a 
musical pipe by the Scottish shepherds, and when, and in what part 
of the country chiefly. I doubt much if it was capable of anything 
but routing and roaring. A friend of mine says he remembers to 
have heard one in his younger days, made of wood instead of your 
bone, and that the sound was abominable. 

Do not, I beseech you, return any books. 



DECLINES TO WRITE FOR THE MORNING CHRONICLE. 123 

Mr Cromek states that, ' in a conversation with his friend Mr 
Perry — the proprietor of the Morning Chronicle — Mr Miller [of 
Dalswinton, younger] represented to that gentleman the insuf- 
ficiency of Burns's salary to answer the imperious demands of a 
numerous family. In their sympathy for his misfortunes, and in 
their regret that his talents were nearly lost to the world of 
letters, these gentlemen agreed on the plan of settling him in 
London. To accomplish this most desirable object, Mr Perry 
very spiritedly made the poet a handsome offer of an annual 
stipend for the exercise of his talents in his newspaper. Burns's 
reasons for refusing this offer are stated in the present letter.' 



TO PETER MILLER, JUN., ESQ. 

Dumfries, Nov. 1794. 

Dear Sir — Your offer is indeed truly generous, and most sincerely 
do I thank you for it ; but in my present situation, I find that I dare 
not accept it. You well know my political sentiments ; and were I 
an insular individual, unconnected with a wife and a family of 
children, with the most fervid enthusiasm I would have volunteered 
my services : I then could and would have despised all consequences 
that might have ensued. 

My prospect in the Excise is something ; at least, it is, encumbered 
as I am with the welfare, the very existence, of near half-a-score of 
helpless individuals, what I dare not sport with. 

In the meantime, they are most welcome to my Ode ; only, let 
them insert it as a thing they have met with by accident, and 
unknown to me. Nay, if Mr Perry, whose honour, after your 
character of him, I cannot doubt, if he will give me an address and 
channel by which anything will come safe from those spies with 
which he may be certain that his correspondence is beset, I will now 
and then send him any bagatelle that I may write. In the present 
hurry of Europe, nothing but news and politics will be rcgai'ded ; 
but against the days of peace, which Heaven send soon, my little 
assistance may perhaps fill up an idle column of a newspaper. I 
have long had it in my head to try my hand in the way of little prose 
essays, which I propose sending into the world through the medium 
of some newspaper; and should these be worth his while, to these 
Mr Perry shall be welcome: and all my reward shall be — his 
treating me with his paper, which, by the by, to anybody who lias 
the least relish for wit, is a high treat indeed. With the most 
grateful esteem, I am ever, dear sir, li. 13. 

Burns's conduct on this occasion has given rise to much com- 
ment. That he should have declined so important an addition to 
his income — for it seems to be understood that this was meant — 
has caused as much surprise as his refusal of remuneration for 



124 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

his songs. Yet there is no mistaking his reasons: he dreaded, by 
accepting this literary income, to risk his prospects in the Excise— 
for he must have had good grounds for believing that the govern- 
ment would not long retain in its service a regular contributor to 
the Morning Chronicle. What would weigh the more with him, his 
prospects in the Excise were at this time brightening; his hopes of 
a speedy appointment to a supervisorship were strong. Again, it 
must be pressed on the reader's attention, that Burns, though cer- 
tainly not a rich man, and though he had some little debts hanging 
over his head, was not quite so sunk in poverty as to have made 
the refusal of Mr Perry's offer the last degree of hardship. The 
whole popular idea entertained of the pecuniary circumstances of 
Burns, and consequently of the manner in which he and his family 
subsisted in the latter part of his life, requires correction. 

The stated official income of Burns was L.50 a year, which 
usually became L.70, in consequence of extra allowances for 
certain departments of business. It has been surmised that he 
had to keep a horse out of this little income ; but in reality, when 
a horse was required during the Dumfries period of his life, he 
was accustomed to hire one from an inn, and its expense was 
charged to the service. There seem to have been other sources 
of official income, of a more precarious nature : on the back of a 
song in his handwriting, he has noted what follows : - I owe Mr 
FindlaterL.6, 8s. 5^d. My share of last year's fine is L.12, 2s. Id. 
W. M., L.14, 3s. 6d.' If this was anything like the average of 
some other perquisite, it would make up Burns's official revenues 
to something above L.80 a year. It may also be remarked, 
that his son, Mr Eobert Burns, believes that the poet occasionally 
derived a little income from land-surveying — a business for 
which his Kirkoswald education had laid the foundation of his 
qualifications. Add to all this the solid perquisites which he 
derived from seizures of contraband spirits, tea, and other articles, 
which it was then the custom to divide among the officers, and we 
shall see that Burns could scarcely be considered as enjoying 
less than L.90 a year. This, indeed, is but a humble income in 
comparison with the deserts of the bard ; yet it is equally certain, 
that many worthy families in the middle ranks of life in Scottish 
country towns were then supported in a decent manner upon no 
larger means ; and very few men of the poet's original profession, 
out of East Lothian and Berwickshire, drew larger incomes from 
their farms. It is therefore not surprising to learn that Burns, 
though now and then forced to be beholden to a friend for a 
small temporary loan — we have seen an example of this when a 
failure of importation closed one of his sources of extraordinary 
income — did, nevertheless, in general maintain his household in 



MENAGE OP BURNS AT DUMFRIES. 125 

Bome reasonable degree of comfort. I have consulted the eldest 
son of the bard on this subject, and find his views of the paternal 
menage at Dumfries very much the same as those with which many 
little circumstances have impressed myself. Mr R. B. speaks of 
the house in the Mill Vennel as being one of a good order, such 
as were used in those days by the better class of citizens, and the 
life of his father and mother as being comparatively genteel life. 
They always had a maid-servant, and sat in their parlour. That 
room, and the two principal bedrooms, were carpeted, and other- 
wise well furnished. The poet possessed a mahogany dining-table, 
where he often had good company assembled. In the same room 
stood his folding-down desk, at which he had to do a considerable 
amount of business in the granting of licences, permits, &c. and 
where the son remembers seeing him writing his letters to Mr 
Thomson, always a business requiring a good deal of care. There 
was much rough comfort in the house not to have been found in 
those of ordinary citizens; for, besides the spoils of smugglers, as 
above mentioned, the poet received many presents of game and 
country produce from the rural gentlefolk, besides occasional barrels 
of oysters from Hill, Cunningham, and other friends in town, so 
that he possibly was as much envied by some of his neighbours as 
he has since been pitied by the general body of his countrymen. 

An intimate friend of Mrs Burns during the life of the poet — 
the Jessy of his songs, now Mrs James Thomson — has similar recol- 
lections of the household in the Mill Vennel. She speaks of the 
large seizures of rum, and the frequent presents, as only leading to 
a degree of hospitality somewhat excessive. At the same time, as 
far as circumstances left Burns to his own inclinations, his personal 
domestic habits were generally simple and temperate. As he was 
often detained by company from the dinner provided for him by 
his wife, she sometimes, on a conjecture of his probable absence, 
would not prepare that meal for him. When he chanced to come 
home, and find no dinner ready, he was never in the least troubled 
or irritated, but would address himself with the greatest cheerful- 
ness to any succedaneum that could be readily set before him. 
They generally had abundance of good Dunlop cheese, sent to them 
by their Ayrshire friends. The poet would sit down to that whole- 
some fare, with bread and butter, and his book by his side, and seem 
to any casual visitor as happy as a courtier at the feasts of kings. 

He was always anxious that his wife should have a neat and 
genteel appearance. In consequence, as she alleged, of the duties 
of nursing, and attending to her infants, she could not help being 
sometimes a little out of order. Burns disliked this, and not only 
remonstrated against it in a gentle way, but did the utmost that in 
him lay to counteract it, by buying for her the best clothes he could 



126 LIFE AND "WORKS OF BURNS. 

afford. Any little novelty in female dress -was almost sure to meet 
with patronage from Burns — all with the aim of keeping up a spirit 
for neat dressing in his wife. She was, for instance, one of the 
first persons in Dumfries who appeared in a dress of gingkam — a 
stuff now common, but, at its first introduction, rather costly, and 
almost exclusively used by persons of superior condition. 

On the whole, it must be admitted that Burns's poverty at this, 
and perhaps at several other periods of his life, has been over- 
stated. After settling in Dumfries, he certainly was without 
spare funds, or anything that could be considered as a provision 
for his family. But of the necessaries of life he never was in 
any want, nor, down to the few last months, were even the 
comforts deficient. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[Post-mark, Dec. 9], 1794. 
It is, I assure you, the pride of my heart to do anything to for- 
ward or add to the value of your book ; and as I agree with you, that 
the Jacobite song in the Museum to There'll never he Peace till Jamie 
comes Hame, would not so well consort with Peter Pindar's excellent 
love-song to that air, I have just framed for you the following : — 

[The song here transcribed was one entitled My Nannie's awa, referring to Mrs 
M'Lehose's absence in the West Indies. Though perhaps not completed till now, 
it has been printed in the third volume of the present edition, p. 2170 

How does this please you ? As to the point of time for the expression, 
in your proposed print from my Sodget^s Retum t \t must certainly be 
at — ' She gazed.' The interesting dubiety and suspense taking pos- 
session of her countenance, and the gushing fondness, with a mixture 
of roguish playfulness in his, strike me as things of which a master 
will make a great deal. In great haste, but in great truth, yours. 



TO MRS DUNLOP, 

IN LONDON. 

Dumfries, 2Wi December 1794. 1 
I HAVE been prodigiously disappointed in this London journey of 
yours. In the first place, when your last to me reached Dumfries, 
I was in the country, and did not return until too late to answer 
your letter ; in the next place, I thought you would certainly take 
this route ; and now I know not what has become of you, or whether 
this may reach you at all. God grant that it may find you and yours 
in prospering health and good spirits! Do let me hear from you 
the soonest possible. 

i Misplaced by Dr Currie under December 1795. 



LETTER TO MRS DUNLOP. 127 

As I hope to get a frank from my friend Captain Miller, I shall, 
every leisure hour, take up the pen, and gossip away whatever 
comes first — prose or poetry, sermon or song. In this last article I 
have abounded of late. I have often mentioned to you a superb 
publication of Scottish songs, which is making its appearance in 
your great metropolis, and where I have the honour to preside over 
the Scottish verse, as no less a personage than Peter Pindar does 
over, the English. 

December 29th. 

Since I began this letter, I have been appointed to act in the 
capacity of supervisor here ; and I assure you, what with the load 
of business, and what with that business being new to me, I could 
scarcely have commanded ten minutes to have spoken to you, had 
you been in town, much less to have written you an epistle. This 
appointment is only temporary, and during the illness of the present 
incumbent ; but I look forward to an early period when I shall be 
appointed in full form — a consummation devoutly to be wished! 
My political sins seem to be forgiven me. 

This is the season (New- Year's Day is now my date) of wishing ; 
and mine are most fervently offered up for you ! May life to you be 
a positive blessing while it lasts, for your own sake ; and that it may 
yet be greatly prolonged, is my wish for my own sake, and for the 
sake of the rest of your friends ! What a transient business is life ! 
Very lately, I was a boy ; but t'other day, I was a young man ; and I 
already begin to feel the rigid fibre and stiffening joints of old age 
coming fast o'er my frame. With all my follies of youth, and, I 
fear, a few vices of manhood, still I congratulate myself on having 
had, in early days, religion strongly impressed on my mind. I have 
nothing to say to any one as to which sect he belongs to or what 
creed he believes; but I look on the man who is firmly persuaded 
of infinite wisdom and goodness superintending and directing every 
circumstance that can happen in his lot — I felicitate such a man as 
having a solid foundation for his mental enjoyment — a firm prop 
and sure stay in the hour of difficulty, trouble, and distress — and a 
never-failing anchor of hope when he looks beyond the grave. 

12lh January [1795.] 
You will have seen our worthy and ingenious friend, the doctor 
[Dr Moore], long ere this. I hope he is welt, and beg to be re- 
membered to him. I have just been reading over again, I daresay 
for the hundred-and- fiftieth time, his View of Society and Manners; 
and still I read it with delight. His humour is perfectly original — 
it is neither the humour of Addison, nor Swift, nor Sterne, nor of 
anybody but Dr Moore. By the by, you have deprived me of Zeluco; 
remember that, when you are disposed to rake up the sins of my 
neglect from among the ashes of my laziness. 

He has paid me a pretty compliment, by emoting me in his last 
publication. E. B. 



128 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Burns had learned to conduct vicarious courtships in his early 
days, and had not yet lost the art. According to a recital by one 
•who has given much attention to our subject: 1 'In the neighbour- 
hood of Dumfries, on the estate of Eockhall, some fifty years since, 
lived a worthy farmer, whom Bums was in the habit of occasion- 
ally visiting. They had spent many a merry evening together, 
enriched with those sallies of wit and humour which stamped the. 
poet's conversation with even more attraction and fascination 
than all the marvels of his poetry. The progress of their inter- 
course was varied by an event which must have afforded Burns 
no little amusement — the farmer fell in love. The lady was of 
respectable connexions ; and the farmer, though excellent at a 
song or anecdote, was unable for the task of -writing a proper 
declaration of his passion. In this extremity, he called in the 
assistance of the poet. Bums furnished him with two draughts of a 
love-letter, and the draughts are certainly curiosities in their way. 
They are not quite so formal and grandiloquent in tone as the 
famous epistle which Tom Pipes in Peregrine Pickle procured 
from the village schoolmaster, which commenced, " Divine empress 
of my soul," and implored the favourite fair one to "let the genial 
rays of her benevolence melt the icy emanations of disdain." 
Burns's letters, however, are of the same character. His prose 
style was always stiff and unnatural, being in this respect the 
antipodes of his verse, which flowed with such inimitable grace 
and simplicity. On the present occasion, too, he was writing in 
a feigned character, without the prompting of those genial impulses 
which made him so thriving a wooer himself. "We believe the 

farmer was successful in his suit. Miss Gr ■ listened to the 

passion so ardently proclaimed by proxy, and lived to be the 
happy wife of the farmer. We have no doubt that the worthy 
pair and the poet often laughed over this adventure, during the 
few remaining years and evil days which darkened the close of 
the poet's life.' 

Madam — "What excuse to make for the liberty I am going to 
assume in this letter, I am utterly at a loss. If the most unfeigned 
respect for your accomplished worth — if the most ardent attach- 
ment — if sincerity and truth — if these, on my part, will in any 
degree weigh with you, my apology is these, and these alone. Little 
as I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance, it has been enough 
to convince me what enviable happiness must be his whom you 
shall honour with your particular regard, and more than enough to 
convince me how unworthy I am to offer myself a candidate for 
that partiality. In this kind of trembling hope, madam, I intend 

1 Mr Robert Carrutliers— Inverness Courier^ September 1840. 



VICARIOUS COURTSHIP AND LETTER-WRITING. 129 

very soon doing myself the honour of waiting on you, persuaded 

that, however little Miss G- may be disposed to attend to the 

suit of a lover as unworthy of her as I am, she is still too good to 
despise an honest man, whose only fault is loving her too much for 
his own peace. I have the honour to be, madam, your most devoted 
humble servant. 

Dear Madam — The passion of love had need to be productive 
of much delight ; as where it takes thorough possession of the man, 
it almost unfits him for anything else. The lover who is certain of 
an equal return of affection, is surely the happiest of men ; but he 
who is a prey to the horrors of anxiety and dreaded disappointment, 
is a being whose situation is by no means enviable. Of this, my 
present experience gives me sufficient proof. To me, amusement 
seems impertinent, and business intrusion, while you alone engross 
every faculty of my mind. May I request you to drop me a line, 
to inform me when I may wait on you ? For pity's sake, do ; and 
let me have it soon. In the meantime, allow me, in all the artless 
sincerity of truth, to assure you, that I truly am, my dearest madam, 
your ardent lover, and devoted humble servant. 1 

On an occasion of a totally different kind, Burns held the pen 
for one who could not do it well for himself. According to Mr 
Cromek : ' A neighbour of the poet's at Dumfries called on him, 
and complained that he had been greatly disappointed in the 
irregular delivery of the paper of the Morning Chronicle. Burns 
asked: "Why do not you write to the editors of the paper?" 
" Good God! sir, can I presume to write to the learned editors 
of a newspaper?" "Well, if you are afraid of writing to the 
editors of a newspaper, Jam not; and, if you think proper, I'll 
draw up a sketch of a letter, which you may copy." 

' Burns tore a leaf from his excise-book, and instantly produced 
the sketch which I have transcribed, and which is here printed. 
The poor man thanked him, and took the letter home. However, 
that caution which the watchfulness of his enemies had taught 
him to exercise, prompted him to the prudence of begging a friend 
to wait on the person for whom it was written, and request the 
favour to have it returned. This request was complied with, and 
the paper never appeared in print.' 

TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING CHRONICLE. 

Sir — You will see, by your subscribers' list, that I have been about 
nine months of that number. 

I am sorry to inform you, that in that time seven or eight of your 



. 



1 'The originals of these curious letters are in the possession of a very successful 
eollector of curiosities— the warm-hearted and entertaining Mr William Smith, 
terfumtr, Dumfries.' 



JC30 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

papers either have never been sent me, or else have never reached 
me. To be deprived of any one number of the first newspaper in 
Great Britain for information, ability, and independence, is what I 
can ill brook and bear ; but to be deprived of that most admirable 
oration of the Marquis of Lansdowne, when he made the great, 
though ineffectual attempt (in the language of the pOet, I fear too 
true) ' to save a sinking state ' — this was a loss that I neither can 
nor will forgive you. That paper, sir, never reached me; but I 
demand it of you. I am a Briton, and must be interested in the 
cause of liberty ; I am a man, and the rights of human nature 
cannot be indifferent to me. However, do not let me mislead you 
— I am not a man in that situation of life which, as your subscriber, 
can be of any consequence to you, in the eyes of those to whom 
situation of life alone is the criterion of man. I am but a 
plain tradesman, in this distant, obscure country-town ; but that 
humble domicile in which I shelter my wife and children, is the 
Castellum of a Briton ; and that scanty, hard-earned income 
which supports them, is as truly my property, as the most magnifi- 
cent fortune of the most puissant member of your house of 

NOBLES. 

These, sir, are my sentiments, and to them I subscribe my name ; 
and were I a man of ability and consequence enough to address the 
public, with that name should they appear. I am, &c. 

The date of this letter may be referred with tolerable confidence 
to the commencement of 1795, as the specimen of parliamen- 
tary eloquence to which it alludes was probably a remarkable 
oration against the continuance of the war, which the Marquis 
of Lansdowne delivered in the debate on the Address, 30th 
December 1794. 

So existence flows on with Burns in this pleasant southern town. 
He has daily duties in stamping leather, gauging malt- vats, noting 
the manufacture of candles, and granting licences for the transport 
of spirits. These duties he performs with fidelity to the king and 
not too much rigour to the subject. As he goes about them in 
the forenoon, in his respectable suit of dark clothes, and with his 
little boy Kobert perhaps holding by his hand and conversing 
with him on his school-exercises, he is beheld by the general 
public with respect, as a person in some authority, the head of 
a family, and also as a man of literary note ; and people are 
heard addressing him deferentially as Mr Burns — a form of his 
name which is still prevalent in Dumfries. At a leisure hour 
before dinner, he will call at some house where there is a 
piano — such as Mr Newall, the writer's — and there have some 
young miss to touch over for him one or two of his favourite 
Scotch airs, such as the Sutpr's Daughter, in order that he may 
accommodate to it §Qme stanzas that have been humming through 



DAILY LIFE OF BURNS AT DUMFRIES. 131 

his brain for the last few days. For another half hour, he will 
be seen standing at the head of some cross street with two or 
three young fellows, bankers' clerks, or ' writer-chiels ' commenc- 
ing business, whom he is regaling with sallies of his bright but 
not always innocent wit — indulging there, indeed, in a strain of 
conversation so different from what had passed in the respectable 
elderly writer's mansion, that, though he were not the same man, 
it could not have been more different. Later in the day, he takes 
a solitary walk along the Dock Green by the river-side, or to 
Lincluden, and composes the most part of a new song ; or he 
spends a couple of hours at his folding-down desk, between the 
fire and window in his parlour, transcribing in his bold round 
hand the remarks which occur to him on Mr Thomson's last 
letter, together with some of his own recently composed songs. 
As a possible variation upon this routine, he has been seen 
passing along the old bridge of Devorgilla Balliol, about three 
o'clock, with his sword-cane in his hand, and his black beard 
unusually well shaven, being on his way to dine with John Syme 
at Ryedale, where young Mr Oswald of Auchincruive is to be of 
the party — or maybe in the opposite direction, to partake of the 
luxuries of John Bushby, at Tinwald Downs. But we presume 
a day when no such attraction invades. The evening is passing 
quietly at home, and pleasant-natured Jean has made herself neat, 
and come in at six o'clock to give him his tea — a meal he always 
takes. At this period, however, there is something remarkably 
exciting in the proceedings of the French army under Fichegru; 
or Fox, Adam, or Sheridan, is expected to make an onslaught 
upon the ministry in the House of Commons. The post comes 
into Dumfries at eight o'clock at night. - There is always a group 
of gentlemen on the street, eager to hear the news. Burns saunters 
out to the High Street, and waits amongst the rest. The intelli- 
gence of the evening is very interesting. The Convention has 
decreed the annexation of the Netherlands — or the new treason- 
bill has passed the House of Lords, with only the feeble protest 
of Bedford, Derby, and Lauderdale. These things merit some 
discussion. The trades-lads go off to strong ale in the closes; the 
gentlemen slide in little groups into the King's Arms Hotel or the 
George. As for Burns, he will just have a single glass and a half- 
hour's chat beside John Hyslop's fire, and then go quietly home. 
So he is quickly absorbed in the little narrow close where that 
vintner maintains his state. There, however, one or two friends 
have already established themselves, all with precisely the same 
virtuous intent. They heartily greet the bard. Meg or John 
bustles about to give him his accustomed place, which no one ever 
disputes. And, somehow, the debate on the news of the evening 



132 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

leads on to other chat of an interesting kind. Then Bums becomes 
brilliant, and his friends give him the applause of their laughter. 
One jug succeeds another — mirth abounds — and it is not till Mrs 
Hyslop has declared that they are going beyond all bounds, and she 
positively will not give them another drop of hot water, that our 
bard at length bethinks him of returning home, where Bonnie Jean 
has been lost in peaceful slumber for three hours, after vainly 
wondering ' what can be keeping Robert out so late the nicht.' 
Burns gets to bed a little excited and worn out, but not in a 
state to provoke much remark from his amiable partner, in whom 
nothing can abate the veneration with which she has all along 
regarded him. And though he beds at a latish hour, most likely 
he is up next morning between seven and eight, to hear little 
Kobert his day's lesson in Ccesar, or, if the season invites, to take a 
half-hour's stroll before breakfast along the favourite Dock Green. 
Thus existence moves on, not unenjoyed, and not without its 
labours both for the present and future; and yet it is an unsatis- 
factory life, as compared with what might have been expected by 
those who saw Burns in his first flush of fame at Monboddo's 
suppers or the reunions of Dr Ferguson. He has had his aspira- 
tions after better things. In 1788, he thought of a poetical 
autobiography, the Poet's Progress, and wrote two little bits for 
it, sketches of Creech and Smellie. At the end of '89, stimulated 
by reading English plays and visiting the Dumfries theatre, he 
had bethought him of a Scottish comic drama of modern manners, 
but, so far as we know, never wrote a line of it. The idea still 
kept possession of his head; but in autumn '90, when Mr Ramsay 
of Ochtertyre visited him, he had shifted the proposed period, and 
thought of dramatising a droll legend regarding Eobert Bruce. 
What even so lively a wit could have made of such an incident as 
Rob MacquecharCs elshen, which ran nine inches up into the 
fugitive king's heel, we cannot tell. It does not seem to have 
ever gone beyond an intention. It is supposed, but on no clear 
evidence known to us, that the poet composed Bruce's Address 
as a portion of a more serious drama on the liberator of Scotland, 
which he then contemplated. We see now that he cast about 
for the subject of a Scottish opera like the Duenna, and it is not 
unlikely that, in the Lover's Morning Address to his Mistress, he 
either composed a portion of such a work, or was trying his hand 
in such a kind of composition. This, too, the last of his schemes 
for an extended effort in literature, died in the conception. 
Occasional songs, or other short pieces, were alone compatible 
with his present duties and inclinations ; and we may be thankful 
that, in such circumstances, he exerted himself even in that 
limited manner. 



SONG — ' FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.' 133 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON". 

January 1795. 

I fear for my songs; however, a few may please, yet originality 
is a coy feature in composition, and in a multiplicity of efforts in the 
same style, disappears altogether. For these three thousand years, 
we poetic folks have been describing the spring, for instance ; and as 
the spring continues the same, there must soon be a sameness in the 
imagery, &c. of these said rhyming folks 

A great critic (Aikin) on songs says, that love and wine are the 
exclusive themes for song- writing. The following is on neither 
subject, and consequently is no song, but will be allowed, I think, 
to be two or three pretty good prose thoughts inverted into rhyme : — 



FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. 

Is there, for honest poverty, 

That hangs his head, and a' that ! 
The coward slave we pass him by, 

We dare be poor for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that, 

Our toils obscure, and a' that ; 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 1 

The man's the gowd for a' that! 

What though on hamely fare we dine, 

Wear hoddin gray, and a' that ; 
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, 

A man 's a man for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that, 

Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
The honest man, though e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men for a' that! 

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, 

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ; 
Though hundreds worship at his word, 

He's but a coof for a' that : fool 

For a' that, and a' that, 

His ribbon, star, and a' that ; 
The man of independent mind, 

He looks and laughs at a' that. 



1 A similar thought occurs in "Wycherly's Plain-Dealer, which Burns probahly 
never saw : ' I weigh the man, not his title ; 'tis not the king's stamp can make 
Jhe metal better or heavier. Your lord is a leaden shilling, which you bend every 
tvay, and debases the stamp he bears.' 



134 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

A prince can mak a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, and a' that ; 
But an honest man's aboon his might, 

Guid faith, he maunna fa' l that ! 
For a' that, and a' that, 

Their dignities, and a' that ; 
The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, 

Are higher rank 2 than a' that. 

Then let us pray that come it may — 

As come it will for a' that — 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, 

May bear the gree, and a' that. supremacy 

For a' that, and a' that, 

It's coming yet, for a' that, 
That man to man, the warld o'er, 

Shall brothers be for a' that ! 

Jan. 15th. — The foregoing has lain by me this fortnight, for want 
of a spare moment. The supervisor of excise here being ill, I have 
been acting for him, and I assure you I have hardly five minutes to 
myself to thank you for your elegant present of Pindar. The 
typography is admirable, and worthy of the truly original bard. 

I do not give you the foregoing song for your book, but merely by 
way of vive la bagatelle; for the piece is not really poetry. How will 
the following do for Craigieburn Wood ? 

[For the new version of Craigieburn Wood, here transcribed by the bard, see 
Vol. iii. p. 235.] 

Farewell ! God bless you ! 

By this time the paroxysm of alarm which commenced in 1792, 
and under which every man who did not see perfection in the 
British constitution had been treated as something little better 
than a mad dog, was in a great measure past. The reaction of 
the French against Barrere and other heroes of the Committee of 
Safety, was in full flow, and Britain felt that she had nothing to 
dread from the analogous class of her own citizens. The unfor- 
tunate reformers of '92 and '93 began, accordingly, to get up 
their heads again, not as reformers — for all idea of change for 
years to come was at an end — but as well-meaning members of 
society. Conservatism felt that it could afford to be compas- 
sionate and forgiving; and many of its special votaries were 
perhaps conscious in their secret thoughts, that certain of their 

1 Fa', as a noun, means lot or share ; as a verb, to get or obtain. Burns here 
uses tlie word in a violent sense, q. d. ' He must not attempt to have that as a thing 
in his power.' 

2 Usually printed ' ranks,' but so in manuscript. 



FRIENDLINESS OF CAPTAIN HAMILTON. 135 

opponents had been grievously misjudged and wronged. Burns, 
amongst others, appears to have experienced the benefit of this 
relenting mood. 

Both the house which he had occupied in the Wee Vennel, and 
that now tenanted by him, belonged to Captain John Hamilton of 
Allershaw ; a gentleman of the highest respectability and most 
amiable character, who had treated him from the tirst with great 
kindness. For a twelvemonth past, there had been no intercourse 
between the landlord and his distinguished tenant ; but now, on 
Burns sending a small sum of money towards the liquidation of 
arrears of rent, Hamilton sent him a friendly note : — 

TO MR BURNS. 

Dumfries, 30th Jan. 1795. 

Dear Sir — At same time that I acknowledge the receipt of three 
guineas to account of house-rent, will you permit me to enter a 
complaint of a different nature ? "When you first came here, I 
courted your acquaintance ; I wished to see you ; I asked you to 
call in, and take a family dinner now and then, when it suited your 
convenience. 

For more than twelve months, you have never entered my door, 
but seemed rather shy when we met. This kept me from sending 
any further particular invitation. 

If I have in any shape offended, or from inadvertency hurt the 
delicacy of your feelings, tell me so, and I will endeavour to set it to 
rights. 

If you are disposed to renew our acquaintance, [I] will be glad to 
see you to a family dinner at 3 o'clock on Sunday, and, at anyrate, 
hope you will believe me, dear sir, your sincere friend, 

John Hamilton. 

Burns's answer came next mornino- : — 



TO CAPTAIN HAMILTON. 

Saturday Morning, [January 31.] 
Sir — I was from home, and had not the opportunity of seeing your 
more than polite, your most friendly card. It is not possible, most 
worthy sir, that you could do anything to offend anybody. My 
backwardness proceeds alone from the abashing consciousness of my 
obscure station in the ranks of life. Many an evening have I sighed 
to call in and spend it at your social fireside; but a shyness of 
appearing obtrusive amid the fashionable visitants occasionally there, 
kept me at a distance. It shall do so no more. On Monday, I must 
be in the country, and most part of the week; but the first leisure 
evening I shall avail myself of your hospitable goodness. With the 
most ardent sentiments of gratitude and respect, I have the honour 
to be, sir, your highly-obliged humble servant, Rob t . Burns. 



136 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

It is tolerably clear, that tlie reason which Burns here assigns for 
his conduct could not be the sole one. So modest a sense of his 
position in life was not characteristic of the bard who had just sung, 
A Man's a Man for a 1 that. And it might have been asked, how 
he had come to act on this feeling for the last twelvemonth, when 
no such sentiment had withheld his visits to Hamilton's mansion 
before. One can scarcely doubt, that there were other considera- 
tions pressing upon him — the unpleasant sense of debt towards 
his landlord, and the consciousness that he was under the ban of 
a large part of respectable society on account of politics, the 
Riddel quarrel, and his own many imprudences. He had clearly 
set forward as the sole and all-sufficient reason one comparatively 
weak, but that which could alone be gracefully acknowledged. 
On the other hand, the warmth of Hamilton's letter, so unlike 
the spirit of the M'Culloch anecdote of June '94, shews toler- 
ably well how Burns was beginning to recover in the good graces 
of the respectables. 

The movement towards a reconciliation with Maria Riddel, 
which commenced in November, had not been allowed to stop 
short. About this time, the lady had sent Burns a book which 
she probably supposed him likely to enjoy in the perusal. She 
had also communicated a new poetical expression of her feelings 
on their late estrangement, in the form of a song, which she 
desired the poet to correct or criticise, for in this strange con- 
fusion of love and literature, it seems to have been thought not 
unfitting that Burns should, in the way of his art, help to polish 
the shaft of tender reproach aimed at his own bosom. 



TO MRS RIDDEL. 

Mr Burns's compliments to Mrs Riddel — is much obliged to her 
for her polite attention in sending him the book. Owing to Mr B. 
at present acting as supervisor of Excise, a department that occupies 
his every hour of the day, he has not that time to spare which 
is necessary for any belles-lettres pursuit; but as he will in a week 
or two again return to his wonted leisure, he will then pay that 
attention to Mrs R.'s beautiful song, To thee, loved JVith, which 
it so well deserves. When Anachaisis's Travels come to hand, 
which Mrs Riddel mentioned as her gift to the public library, 
Mr B. will feel honoured by the indulgence of a perusal of them 
before presentation : it is a book he has never yet seen, and 
the regulations of the library allow too little leisure for deliberate 
reading. 






RECONCILIATION WITH MRS RIDDEL. 137 



Friday evening. 

P. S. — Mr Burns will be much obliged to Mrs Riddel, if she will 
favour him with a perusal of any of her poetical pieces which he 
may not have seen. 



The song has fortunately been preserved. 



TO THEE, LOVED NITH. 

To thee, loved Nith, thy gladsome plains, 

"Where late with careless thought I ranged, 
Though prest with care, and sunk in wo, 

To thee I bring a heart unchanged. 
I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes, 

Though Memory there my bosom tear, 
For there he roved, that broke my heart, 

Yet to that heart, ah, still how dear ! 

And now your banks and bonnie braes 

But waken sad remembrance' smart ; 
The very shades I held most dear, 

Now strike fresh anguish to my heart : 
Deserted bower ! where are they now — ■ 

Ah ! where the garlands that I wove 
"With faithful care, each morn to deck 

The altars of ungrateful love ? 

The flowers of spring, how gay they bloomed, 

"When last with him I wandered here ! 
The flowers of spring are passed away 

For wintry horrors dark and drear. 
Yon osiered stream, by whose lone banks 

My songs have lulled him oft to rest, 
Is now in icy fetters locked— 

Cold as my false love's frozen breast. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Edinburgh, 30lh January 1795. 
My dear Sir— I thank you heartily for Nannie's Awa, as well 
as for Craigieburn, which I think a very comely pair. Your 
observation on the difficulty of original writing in a number of 
efforts, in the same style, strikes me very forcibly ; and it has, again 
and again, excited my wonder to find you continually surmounting 
this difficulty, in the many delightful songs you have sent me. Your 
vive la bagatelle song, For a' that, shall undoubtedly be included in 
my list. 

The supervising duties which Burns had taken up, brought him 
early in February to the village of Ecclefechan, in Annandale — a 



138 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

place which will continue to be memorable in Scottish biographj 
as the birthplace of several remarkable men, all of them con- 
nected with the history of our bard. The first was the school- 
tyrant Nicol, of whom we have not heard for some time. The 
second was Dr Currie of Liverpool, the amiable editor of Burns, 
and most effective friend of his family. A third, who would be 
first seeing the light just about this time, was Thomas Carlyle, 
than whom no man has written about Burns with a fairer appre- 
hension of his merits, or a truer expression of sympathy for his 
misfortunes. Burns, little thinking of the destinies of Ecclefechan 
infants, had come there in the midst of an extraordinary fall of 
snow, which threatened to keep him a prisoner to Jiis inn for many 
days. It was such a snow-fall as no living man remembered. 
Most people throughout Scotland, on wakening in the morning, 
found their houses absorbed in it up to the second tier of windows ; 
and in some hollows of the Campsie Fells, near G-lasgow, it was 
drifted to the depth of from eighty to a hundred feet. Some roads 
were impassable for weeks, and even in the streets of Edinburgh, 
it had not entirely disappeared on the king's birthday, the 4th of 
June. The immediate consequences to Burns are amusingly 
described by himself : — 

BURNS TO ME, THOMSON. 

Ecclefechan, "ilh February 1795. 

My dear Thomson — You cannot have any idea of the predicament 
in which I write to you. In the course of my duty as supervisor — 
in which capacity I have acted of late — I came yesternight to this 
unfortunate, wicked little village. 1 I have gone forward, but snows 
of ten feet deep have impeded my progress ; I have tried to gae bach 
the gait I cam again, but the same obstacle has shut me up within 
insuperable bars. To add to my misfortune, since dinner, a scraper 
has been torturing catgut, in sounds that would have insulted the 
dying agonies of a sow under the hands of a butcher, and thinks 
himself, on that very account, exceeding good company. In fact, 
I have been in a dilemma, either to get drunk, to forget these 
miseries; or to hang myself, to get rid of them: like a prudent 
man — a character congenial to my every thought, word, and deed — 
I, of two evils, have chosen the least, and am very drunk, at your 
service ! 2 

I wrote you yesterday from Dumfries. I had not time then to 
tell you all I wanted to say ; and, Heaven knows, at present I have 
not capacity. 

1 Dr Currie remarks, that the poet must have been tipsy indeed to abuse sweet 
Ecclefechan at this rate. 

2 The handwriting confirms the poet's confession, for it lacks his usual clearness 
and regularity. 



SONG—' O LASSIE, ART THOU SLEEPING YET?' 139 

Do you know an air — I am sure you must know it — We'll gang nae 
mair to yon Town ? I think, in slowish time, it would make an excel- 
lent song-. I am highly delighted with it; and if you should think 
it worthy of your attention, I have a fair dame in my eye, to whom 
I would consecrate it. Try it with this doggrel — until I give you a 
better : 



O wat ye wha's in yon town, 

Ye see the e'enin' sun upon ? 
The dearest maid 's in yon town 

That e'enin' sun is shinin' on. 

O sweet to me yon spreading tree, 

Where Jeanie wanders aft her lane ; 
The hawthorn flower that shades her bower, 
Oh, when shall I behold again ? 

As I am just going to bed, I wish you a good-night. R. B. 

P. S. — As I am likely to be storm-staid here to-morrow, if I am 
in the humour, you shall have a long letter from me. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[Post-mark, February 9], 1795. 
Here is another trial at your favourite : 

O LASSIE, ART THOU SLEEPING YET? 

Tune— Let me in this ae Night. 

O lassie, art thou sleeping yet? 
Or art thou wakin', I would wit? 
For love has bound me hand and foot, 
And I would fain be in, jo. 



O let me in this ae night, 

This ae, ae, ae night; 
For pity's sake this ae night, 

O rise and let me in, jo! ♦ 

Thou hear'st the winter wind and wcet, 
Nae star blinks through the driving sleet; 
Talc pity on my weary feet, 

And shield me frae the rain, jo. 



140 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

The bitter blast that round me blaws 
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's ; 
The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause 
Of a' my grief and pain, jo. 



HER ANSWER. 



O tell na me o' wind and rain, 
Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain ; 
Gae back the gait ye cam again — 
I winna let ye in, jo ! 



I tell you now this ae night, 

This ae, ae, ae night ; 
And ance for a' this ae night, 

I winna let you in, jo! 

The snellest blast, at mirkest hours, 
That round the pathless wanderer pours, 
Is nocht to what poor she endures, 
That's trusted faithless man, jo. 

The sweetest flower that decked the mead, 
Now trodden like the vilest weed; 
Let simple maid the lesson read, 
The weird may be her ain, jo. 

The bird that charmed his summer-day, 
Is now the cruel fowler's prey; 
Let witless, trusting woman say 
How aft her fate's the same, jo! 

I do not know whether it will do. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

55th February 1795. 
I have to thank you, my dear sir, for two epistles — one con- 
taining Let me in this ae Nigld; and the other from Ecclefechan, 
proving that, drunk 6r sober, your ' mind is never muddy.' You have 
displayed great address in the above song. Her answer is excellent, 
and at the same time takes away the indelicacy that otherwise 
would have attached to his entreaties. I like the song, as it now 
stands, very much. 



THE KIRKCUDBRIGHT ELECTION, 1795. 141 

I had hopes you would be arrested some days at Ecclefechan, and 
be obliged to beguile the tedious forenoons by song-making. It will 
give me pleasure to receive the verses you intend for wat ye 
wha's in yon Town? 

Amongst other things snowed up by the storm of February 
'95, was a Scotch county election. The death of General Stewart 
in January had created a vacancy in the representation of the 
Stewartry of Kirkcudbright — a district so closely adjoining to 
Dumfries, that all its concerns are there deeply felt. A writ had 
been issued and intrusted to Lord G-arlies, M.P., son of the Earl of 
Galloway; but his lordship kept it back for several weeks, for 
the ostensible reason, that it was impossible for the electors at 
such a season to meet for the recording of their votes. Mean- 
while, public feeling was strongly excited, the vacant seat being 
contested between a Tory, under the Galloway influence, and 
an independent country gentleman of Whig politics. The latter 
was the same Mr Heron of Kerroughtree whom Burns had 
visited in June of the past year, soon after his melancholy ren- 
contre with David M'Culloch. He was a benevolent and most 
respectable man. The candidate in the Tory interest was Mr 
Gordon of Balmaghie, himself a man of moderate property and 
influence, but greatly fortified by the favour of his uncle, Mr 
Murray of Broughton, one of the wealthiest proprietors in the 
south of Scotland, as well as by the interest of the Earl of 
Galloway. 

It was certainly most unsuitable for Burns to take any part in 
this conflict, as, while no public duty was neglected by his silence, 
his partisanship was ten times more likely to do him harm than 
good. He saw, however, some of his favourite aversions, such as 
the Earl of Galloway and John Bushby of Tinwald Downs, on 
the one side, while on the other stood a really worthy man, who 
had shewn him some kindness, and whose political prepossessions 
accorded with his own. With his characteristic recklessness, he 
threw off several ballads, and even caused them to be circulated 
in print; effusions which must now be deemed of secondary im- 
portance in the roll of his works, but which yet are well worthy 
of preservation for the traits of a keen satiric spirit which mingle 
with their local and scarcely intelligible allusions : 

BALLADS ON MR HERON'S ELECTION, 1795. 

BAIXAD FIRST. 

Whom will you send to London town, 

To Parliament and a' that ? 
Or wha in a' the country round 

The best deserves to fa' that ? 



142 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

For a' that, and a' that, 
Through Galloway and a' that ; 
Where is the laird or belted knight 
That best deserves to fa' that ? 

Wha sees Kerroughtree's open yett, 

And wha is't never saw that? 
Wha ever wi' Kerroughtree meets, 
And has a doubt of a' that ? 
For a' that, and a' that, 
Here 's Heron yet for a' that ! 
The independent patriot, 
The honest man, and a' that. 

Though wit and worth in either sex, 

St Mary's Isle can shaw that ; 
Wi' dukes and lords let Selkirk mix, 
And weel does Selkirk fa' that. 
For a' that, and a' that, 
Here 's Heron yet for a' that ! 
The independent commoner 
Shall be the man for a' that. 

But why should we to nobles jouk ? bend 

And is't against the law that ? 
For why, a lord may be a gouk, fool 

Wi' ribbon, star, and a' that. 
For a' that, and a' that, 
Here's Heron yet for a' that ! 
A lord may be a lousy loun, 
Wi' ribbon, star, and a' that. 1 

A beardless boy comes o'er the hills, 

Wi' uncle's purse and a' that, 
But we'll hae ane frae 'mang oursels, 
A man we ken, and a' that. 
For a' that, and a' that, 
Here 's Heron yet for a' that ! 
For we're not to be bought and sold, 
Like naigs, and nowt, and a' that. cattle 

Then let us drink the Stewartry, 

Kerroughtree's laird, and a' that, 
Our representative to be, 

For weel he's worthy a' that. 

1 The vituperation in this stanza refers, not to the Selkirk family, for which 
Burns had a respect, as shewn in the preceding verse, but to the Earl of Galloway. 



KIRKCUDBRIGHT ELECTION BALLADS. 143 

For a' that, and a' that, 
Here's Heron yet for a' that ! 
A House of Commons such as he, 
They would be blest that saw that. 

BAIXAD SECOND." 

Fy, let ns a' to Kirkcudbright, 

For there will be bickering there ; 
For Murray's light horse are to muster, 

And oh, how. the heroes will swear ! * 

First,*there will be trusty Kerroughtree, 2 

"Whase honour was ever his law ; 
If the virtues were packed in a parcel, 

His worth might be sample for a'. 

And strong ard respectfu's his backing, 
The maist o' the lairds wi' him stand ; 

Nae gipsy-like nominal barons, 

Whase property 's paper, but lands. 3 

For there frae the Niddisdale borders, 

The Maxwells will gather in droves, 
Teugh Jockie, 4 stanch Geordie, 5 and Wellwood, 6 

That griens for the fishes and loaves. longs 

And there will be Heron the Major,7 
Wha'll ne'er be forgot in the Greys ; 

Our flattery we '11 keep for some other, 
Him only 'tis justice to praise. 

And there will be Maiden Kilkerran, 8 
And also Barskimming's gude knight; 9 

And there will be roaring Birtwhistle, 10 
Wha luckily roars i' the right. 

1 This ballad is composed in imitation of a rough but most amusing specimen 
of the old ballad literature of Scotland, descriptive of the company attending a 
country wedding — 

' Fy, let us a' to the wedding, 

For there'll be lilting there,' &c. 

2 Mr Heron of Kerroughtree, the Whig candidate. 

3 Many of the county electors were, previous to the Reform Act of 1832, pos- 
sessors of fictitious votes only— often called -paper voters. 

4 Mr Maxwell of Terraughty, the venerable gentleman on whose birthday Burns 
wrote some verses. See vol. iii., p. 204. 

5 George Maxwell of Carruchan. 

6 Mr Wellwood Maxwell. 

7 Major Heron, brother of the Whig candidate. 
u Sir Adam Ferguson of Kilkerran. 

9 Sir William Miller of Barskimming; afterwards a judge under the designation 
of Lord Glenlce. 

™ Mr Birtwhistle of Kirkcudbright. 



144 LIFE AND WORKS OY BURNS. 

Next there will be wealthy young Bichard J — 
Dame Fortune should hing by the neck 

For prodigal thriftless bestowing — 
His merit had won him respect. 

And there will be rich brother nabobs, 
Though nabobs, yet men of the first ; 2 

And there will be Collieston's whiskers, 3 
And Quintin, o' lads not the warst. 4 

And there will be Stamp-office Johnnie 5 — 
Take care how ye purchase a dram^ 

And there will be gay Cassencarrie, 6 
And there will be gleg Colonel TamJ 

And there will be folk frae St Mary's, 

A house of great merit and note ; 8 
The deil ane but honours them highly, 

The deil's few will gie them a vote. 

And there'll be Murray commander, 9 

And Gordon the battle to win ; 10 
Like brothers they'll stand by each other, 

Sae knit in alliance and sin. 

And there will be black-lippit Johnnie, 11 

The tongue o' the trump to them a' ; 
An he gets na hell for his haddin, 

The deil gets nae justice ava. 

And there'll be Kempleton's birkie, 12 

A chiel no sae black at the bane ; 
For as for his fine nabob fortune, 

We'll e'en let that subject alane. 13 

1 Richard Oswald of Auchincruive. 

2 Messrs Hannay. 

3 Mr Copland of Collieston. 

4 Quintin M'Adam of Craigengillan. 

5 Mr John Syme, distributer of stamps, Dumfries. 

6 of Cassencarrie. 

7 Colonel Goldie of Goldielea. 

8 The family of the Earl of Selkirk. 

9 Mr Murray of Broughton. This gentleman had left his wife, and eloped with 
a lady of rank. Large fortune had allowed him to do this with comparative 
hnpunity, and even without forfeiting the alhance of his wife's relations, one of 
whom he was supporting in this election. 

i° Mr Gordon of Balmaghie, the government candidate. 

11 Mr John Bushby. 

12 "William Bushby of Kempleton, brother of John. He had been involved in the 
ruinous affair of Douglas, Heron, & Co.'s Bank, and had subsequently gone to 
ladia, where he realised a fortune. 

13 Far.— For now what he wan in the Indies, 

Eas secured up the laddie fu' clean. 



KIRKCUDBRIGHT ELECTION BALLADS. 145 

And there'll be Wigton's new sheriff,! 

Dame Justice fu' brawly has sped ; 
She's gotten the heart o' a Bushby, 

But, Lord! what's become o' the head? 

And there'll be Cardoness Esquire, 2 

Sae mighty in Cardoness' eyes, 
A wight that will weather damnation, 

For the devil the prey will despise. 

And there is our king's lord-lieutenant, 

So famed for his grateful return ; 
The birkie is getting his questions, 

To say in St Stephen's the morn. 

And there will be Douglasses doughty, 
New-christening towns far and near; 3 

Abjuring their democrat doings, 
By kissing the of a peer. 

And there'll be lads o' the gospel; 

Muirhead, wha's as gude as he's true; 4 
And there'll be Buittle's apostle, 

Wha's mair o' the black than the blue. 5 

And there'll be Kenmure sae generous, 6 

Whase honour is proof to the storm ; 
To save them frae stark reprobation, 

He lent them his name to the firm. 

And there'll be Logan M'Dowall,7 

Sculduddery and he will be there ; 
And also the wild Scot o' Galloway, 

Sodgering gunpowder Blair. 8 

But we winna mention Redcastle, 9 

The body, e'en let him escape ! 
He'd venture the gallows for siller, 

An' 'twere na' the cost o' the rape. 

1 Mr Bushby Maitland, son of John, and newly appointed sheriff of TVigton- 
Bhire. The same idea occurs in The Epistle of Esopus to Maria. 

2 David Maxwell of Cardoness. 

3 The Messrs Douglas, brothers, of Carlinwark (new-chrislcned by them Castle- 
Douglas) and Orchardton. 

4 Rev. Mr Muirhead, minister of Urr. 

6 Rev. George Maxwell, minister of Buittle. 
Mr Gordon of Kenmure. 

7 Captain M'Dowall of Logan, the hero of Ye BanKs and Braes o' Bonnie Doon. 
Mr Blair of Dunskey. 

9 Walter Sloan Lawrie of Redcastle. 
VOL. IV. G 



146 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

Then hey the chaste interest o' Broughton, 
And hey for the blessings 'twill bring ! 

It may send Bairn aghie to the Commons, 
In Sodom 'twould make him a king. 

And hey for the sanctified Murray, 
Our land who wi' chapels has stored ; 

He foundered his horse among harlots, 
But gied the auld naig to the Lord. 

Though Burns had, we may well believe, anything but a view 
to his own interest in writing these diatribes, it appears that there 
resulted from them some little glimpse of a hope of promotion. 
Mr Heron, hearing of them, and having perused one, wrote to 
Mr Syme, with some references to the poet, as if it were not 
impossible that he might be able to advance his interests. 



TO MR HERON OF HERON. 

Sir— I enclose you some copies of a couple of political ballads, 
one of which, I believe, you have never seen. Would to Heaven I 
could make you master of as many votes in the Stewartry — but — 

Who does the utmost that he can, 
Does well, acts nobly— angels could no more. 

In order to bring my humble efforts to bear with more effect on 
the foe, I have privately printed a good many copies of both ballads, 
and have sent them among friends all about the country. 

To pilloi-y on Parnassus the rank reprobation of character, the 
utter dereliction of all principle, in a profligate junto, which has 
not only outraged virtue, but violated common decency, spurning 
even hypocrisy as paltry iniquity below their daring — to unmask 
their flagitiousness to the broadest day — to deliver such over to 
their merited fate — is surely not merely innocent, but laudable ; is 
not only propriety, but virtue. You have already, as your auxiliary, 
the sober detestation of mankind on the heads of your opponents ; 
and I swear by the lyre of Thalia, to muster on your side all the 
votaries of honest laughter, and fair, candid ridicule. 

I am extremely obliged to you for your kind mention of my 
interests in a letter which Mr Syme shewed me. At present, my 
situation in life must be in a great measure stationary, at least for 
two or three years. The statement is this — I am on the supervisors' 
list, and as we come on there by precedency, in two or three years I 
shall be at the head of that list, and be appointed of course. Then, 
a friend might be of service to me in getting me into a place of the 
kingdom which I would like. A supervisor's income varies from 
about a hundred and twenty to two hundred a year; but the business 
is an incessant drudgery, and would be nearly a complete bar to 
every species of literary pursuit. The moment I am appointed 



JOHN bushby's lamentation. 147 

supervisor, in the common routine, I may be nominated on the 
collector's list ; and this is al ways a business purely of political 
patronage. A collectorship varies much, from better than two 
hundred a year to near a thousand. They also come forward by 
precedency on the list ; and have, besides a handsome income, a life 
of complete leisure. A life of literary leisure, with a decent com- 
petency, is the summit of my wishes. It would be the prudish 
affectation of silly pride in me to say that I do not need, or would 
not be indebted to, a political friend ; at the same time, sir, I by no 
means lay my affairs before you thus, to hook my dependent situa- 
tion on your benevolence. If, in my progress of life, an opening 
should occur where the good offices of a gentleman of your public 
character and political consequence might bring me forward, I shall 
petition your goodness with the same frankness as I now do myself 
the honour to subscribe myself, R. B. 

After the election, which was decided in Mr Heron's favour, 
Burns could not resist the temptation to raise a psean of triumph 
over the discomfited earl and his factotum Bushby : 

JOHN BUSHBY'S LAMENTATION. 

Tune— The Babes in the Wood. 

'Twas in the seventeen hunder year 

O' grace and ninety-five, 
That year I was the wae'est man 

0' ony man alive. 

In March the three-and-twentieth morn, 

The sun raise clear and bright; 
But oh I was a waefu' man 

Ere to-fa' o' the night. 

Yerl Galloway lang did rule this land, 

Wi' equal right and fame, 
And thereto was his kinsman joined 

The Murray's noble name. 1 

Yerl Galloway lang did rule the land, 

Made me the judge o' strife ; 
But now Yerl Galloway's sceptre's broke, 

And eke my hangman's knife. 2 

* Far.— Fast knit in chaste and haly bands, 

Wi' Broughton's noble name. 
8 Far.— Earl Galloway's man o' men was I, 
And chief o' Broughton's host; 
So twa blind beggars on a string 

The faithfu' tyke will trust. 
But now Earl Galloway's sceptre's broke, 

And Broughton's wi' the slain, 
And 1 my ancient craft may try, 
Sin' honesty is gane. 



148 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

'Twas by the banks o' bonnie Dee, 

Beside Kirkcudbright's towers, 
The Stewart and the Murray there 

Did muster a' their powers. 

The Murray, on the auld gray yaud, 

Wi' winged spurs did ride, 1 
That auld gray yaud, yea, 2 Nidsdale rade, 

He staw upon Nidside. stole 

An' there had na been the yerl himsel', 

there had been nae play ; 
But Garlies was to London gane, 

And sae the kye might stray. 

And there was Balmaghie, I ween, 

In front rank he wad shine ; 
But Balmaghie had better been 

Drinking Madeira wine. 

Frae the 3 Glenkens came to our aid, 

A chief o' doughty deed ; 
In case that worth should wanted be, 

O' Kenmure we had need. 

And by our banners marched Muirhead, 

And Buittle was na slack ; 
Whase haly priesthood nane can stain, 

For wha can dye the black ? 

And there sae grave Squire Cardoness, 

Looked on till a' was done ; 
Sae, in the tower o' Cardoness, 

A howlet sits at noon. 

And there led I the Bushby clan, 

My gamesome billie Will ; 
And my son Maitland, wise as brave, 

My footsteps followed still. 

The Douglas and the Heron's name 

"We set nought to their score ; 
The Douglas and the Heron's name 

Had felt our weight 4 before. 

1 An obscure allusion to the lady with whom Murray had eloped— a member of 
the house of Johnston, whose well-known crest is a winged spur. 

2 Far:— a. 3 Tar.— And fra. 4 Far.— Might. 



DR MUIRHEAD'S LAMPOON ON BURNS. 149 

But Douglasses o' weight had we, 

The pair o' lusty lairds, 
For building cot-houses sae famed, 

And christening kail-yards. 

And there Redcastle drew his sword, 

That ne'er was stained wi' gore, 
Save on a wanderer lame and blind, 

To drive him frae his door. 

And last came creeping C 1 n, 

Was mair in fear than wrath ; 
Ae knave was constant in his mind, 

To keep that knave frae scaith. * * * 

^ The country gentlemen submitted to these diatribes of Burns 
with probably no great difficulty, his social position making him 
no proper object for ostensible resentment. There was, however, 
a clergyman amongst the victims, a vigorous-minded, somewhat 
eccentric personage, his name and description being, the Rev. 
James Muirhead, minister of Urr. Landed property and a pedigree 
singled this gentleman out from the class to which he belonged. 
He took a pride in considering himself as the chief of the Muir- 
heads, and his neighbours had of course heard a good deal of his 
family heraldry. Burns introduced him in the second of these 
ballads by the single line — 

'Muirhead, wha's as gude as he's true.' 

He also figures in the third ballad, under a still more pointed 
allusion. Muirhead, who had lived with the Edinburgh wits, Dr 
Gilbert Stuart and Dr John Brown, was himself a scribbler of 
epigrams and lampoons, and little disposed to receive Burns's 
venomed darts with Christian meekness. He caused a small 
brochure to be printed in Edinburgh, commencing thus : 

' The ancient poets, all agree, 
Sang sweeter far than modern we, 
In this, besides, their racy rhymes 
Were told in far, far fewer lines,' &c. 



Then he quoted — 



MARTIALIS LIBER XI., EP. 66. 

IN VACERRAM. 

1 Et delator es, et calumniator; 
Et fraudator es, et negotiator : 
Et fellator es, et lanista : miror 
Quare non habeas, Vacerra, nummos.' 



150 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Followed a translation, or rather paraphrase : 

' Vacerras, shabby son of w , 

Why do thy patrons keep thee poor ? 
Bribe-worthy service thou canst boast, 
At once their bulwark and their post ; 
Thou art a sycophant, a traitor, 
A liar, a calumniator, 

Who conscience (hadst thou that) would sell, 
Nay, lave the common sewer of hell, 
For whisky : Eke, most precious imp, 
Thou art a rhymster, gauger, pimp ; 
Whence comes it, then, Vacerras, that 
Thou still art poor as a church-rat ? ' 

This is a curiosity, not merely as a specimen of clerical bitter- 
ness, but as almost the only known contemporary satire on Burns 
which obtained the nonours of print. It will be found that our 
bard made a rejoinder. 1 

In the early part of 1795, two companies of volunteers were 
raised by Dumfries, as its quota towards the stationary troops 
which were found necessary at that crisis, when the regular army 
was chiefly engaged in maintaining external warfare against 
France. 2 Many a liberal who had incurred the wrath or suspicion 
of the government and its friends, was glad to enrol himself in 
these corps, in order to prove that he bore a sound heart towards 
his country. Syme, Dr Maxwell, and others of the Dumfries Whigs, 
took this step, and Burns also joined the corps, though, according 

1 ' It consists with my knowledge, that no publication in answer to the scurrilities 
of Burns ever did him so much harm in public opinion, or made Burns himself 
feel so sore, as Dr Muirhead's translation of Martial's epigram. When I remon- 
strated with the doctor against his printing and circulating that translation, I 
asked him how he proved that Vacerras was a gauger as well as Bums. He 
answered : "Martial calls him fellator, which means a sucker, or a man who 
drinks from the cask." '— From a MS., by the late Alexander Young, Esq., W.S., 
Edinburgh. 

' [Diedj May 16, 1808] at Spottes Hall, Dunscore, the Rev. Dr James Muirhead, 
minister of Urr, in the sixty-eighth year of his age, and thirty-eighth of his ministry.' 
— Magazine Obituary. 

2 ' War Office, March 24 (1795).— Dumfriesshire Corps of Volunteers. A. S. De 
Peyster, Esq., to be Major Commandant; John Hamilton and John Finnan, Esq., 
Captains ; David Newall and Wellwood Maxwell, gent., First Lieutenants ; Francis 
Shortt and Thomas White, gent., Second Lieutenants.'— Gazette. 

On the king's birthday, a set of colours, prepared by Mrs De Peyster, wife 
of the commandant, was presented in a ceremonious manner to the Dumfries 
Volunteers, in the square where the Duke of Queensberry's monument stands. 
The Rev. Mr Burnside, one of the clergymen of the town, said a prayer on the 
occasion, and complimented the corps on its good discipline, which he said had 
been mainly owing to De Peyster's assiduity in drilling. ' At four o'clock, the 
whole Volunteers, and a number of other gentlemen, were entertained at dinner in 
the King's Arms by the magistrates; and at five the company adjourned to the 
court-house, where the king's health was drunk, and other loyal and constitutional 
toasts suited to the occasion. The whole day was spent in the utmost harmony,' &c. 
—Dumfries Journal, June 9, 1795. 



BONG — * THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS.' 151 

to Allan Cunningham, not without opposition from some of the 
haughty Tories, who demurred about his political opinions. ' I 
remember well,' says Cunningham, ' the appearance of that 
respectable corps ; their odd, but not ungraceful dress ; white 
kerseymere breeches and waistcoat; short blue coat, faced with 
red; and round hat, surmounted by a bearskin, like the helmets 
of our Horse-guards ; and I remember the poet also — his very 
swarthy face, his ploughman stoop, his large dark eyes, and his 
indifferent dexterity in the handling of his arms.' The poet made 
a further and more public demonstration of his sentiments about 
Gallic propagandism, by penning his well-known song — 



THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS. 
Tune — Push about the Jorum. 

Does haughty Gaul invasion threat? 

Then let the loons beware, sir ; 
There's wooden walls upon our seas, 

And volunteers on shore, sir. 
The Nith shall run to Corsincon, 1 

And Criffel ~ 2 sink in Sol way, 
Ere we permit a foreign foe 

On British ground to rally ! 
Fall de rail, &c. 

Oh, let us not like snarling tykes dogs 

In wrangling be divided; 
Till, slap, come in an unco loon, 

And wi' a rung decide it. bludgeon 

Be Britain still to Britain true, 

Among oursels united ; 
For never but by British hands 

Maun British wrangs be righted. 
Fall de rail, &c. 

The kettle o' the Kirk and State, 

Perhaps a clout may fail in't; 
But deil a foreign tinkler loon 

Shall ever ca' a nail in't. 
Our fathers' bluid the kettle bought, 

And wha wad dare to spoil it ; 
By Heaven, the sacrilegious dog 

Shall fuel be to boil it. 
Fall de rail. &c. 



1 A high hill at the source of the Nith.— B. 

* A well-known mountain near the mouth of the Nith. 



152 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

The -wretch that wad a tyrant own, 

And the wretch his true-born brother, 
Wh' 'ould set the mob aboon the throne, 

May they be damned together ! 
Who will not sing ' God save the King,' 

Shall hang as high's the steeple ; 
But while we sing * God save the King,' 

We'll ne'er forget the People. 

This ballad appears in the Dumfries Journal of 5th May, 
whence it was quickly transferred into other newspapers. So 
decided a declaration in behalf of order, joined with so guarded, 
yet so felicitous an assertion of popular principles, ought to have 
secured some share of government favour for Burns. In the 
same spirit, and in much the same phraseology, was an epigram 
which he is said to have given forth at a festive meeting to 
celebrate Rodney's victory of the 12th of April. 

TOAST FOR THE 12TH OF APRIL. 

Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast — 

Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost! — 

That we lost, did I say? nay, by Heaven, that we found; 

For their fame it shall last while the world goes round. 

The next in succession, I'll give you — the King! 

Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing; 

And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution, 

As built on the base of the great Kevolution; 

And longer with politics not to be crammed, 

Be Anarchy cursed, and be Tyranny damned ; 

And who would to Liberty e'er prove disloyal, 

May his son be a hangman, and he his first trial ! 

Cunningham says of the invasion-song, that ' it hit the taste, 
and suited the feelings of the humbler classes, who added to it 
the Poor and Honest Sodger, the Song of Death, and Scots wha 
hae wi 1 Wallace bled. Hills echoed with it ; it was heard in every 
street, and did more to right the mind of the rustic part of the 
population, than all the speeches of Pitt and Dundas, or the 
chosen Five-and-Forty.' Assuming this to have been the case, it 
might well seem strange that the Scottish minister who has been 
named, in his abundant benevolence towards Scotland, never 
extended the slightest patronage towards one from whom Scotland 
derived more honour than from any other of her living sons. 

We do not find, indeed, that from the first to last of Burns's 
career, any movement was made in high quarters to distinguish 
him by state patronage. We have no trace of his ever having 



LETTER TO MR OSWALD OF AUCHINCRUIVE. 153 

attracted the slightest attention from the royal family. No 
minister smiled upon him. Scarcely a single Tory noble or 
gentleman granted him further grace than a subscription for his 
poems. All his active patrons among the great were of the 
Whig party, men destitute of the power of advancing him beyond 
the humble function to which the favour of one of them had 
condemned him. His receiving no ray of state favour is the more 
remarkable, since it appears that Mr Addington entertained a 
most earnest feeling of interest in the poetry of the Scottish 
ploughman, and that his strains had touched even the temperate 
bosom of Mr Pitt. Mr Lockhart had learned, apparently on good 
authority, that the latter statesman spoke thus of the productions 
of Burns, at the table of Lord Liverpool, not long after the death 
of the hapless bard : ' I can think of no verse since Shakspeare's 
that has so much the appearance of coming sweetly from nature.' 1 
Allan Cunningham had learned that Mr Addington reminded Pitt 
of the deservings of the poet in his lifetime; but Pitt 'pushed the 
bottle to Lord Melville, and did nothing.' 2 Mr Lockhart adds 
very justly : ' Had Burns put forth some newspaper squibs upon 
Lepaux and Carnot, or a smart pamphlet " On the State of the 
Country," he might have been more attended to in his lifetime. 
It is common to say : " What is everybody's business is nobody's 
business;" but one may be pardoned for thinking that, in such 
cases as this, that which the general voice of the country does 
admit to be everybody's business, comes, in fact, to be the business 
of those whom the nation intrusts with national concerns.' 

The fact is, that no man allying himself to the Whigs could in 
those days be tolerated by the ministry. Burns, though practi- 
cally demonstrating his attachment to the general fabric of the 
constitution, made no secret at the same time of his wishing to 
see it in other hands than those in which it now rested. This 
was enough. We see the earnestness of his sentiments, even in 
the volunteering crisis, in a letter which has come down to us 
without any address, but which seems to have enveloped the 
election ballads to some Whig gentleman — probably Mr Oswald 
of Auchincruive, a young Ayrshire squire of great wealth, now 
living near Dumfries, and whom he had lately met : 3 

TO [RTCIIARD A. OSWALD, ESQ.] 

Dumfries, 2M April 1795. 
Str — You see the danger of patronising the rhyming tribe: you 
flatter the poet's vanity — a most potent ingredient in the composition 

1 Loclcharl's Life of Bums, p. 227. 2 Cunningham's Life of Burns, p. i'(,'2. 

3 The letter has lately heen found among the papers of the Auchincruive family. 



154 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

of a son of rhyme— by a little notice ; and he, in return, persecutes 
your good-nature with his acquaintance. In these days of volun- 
teering, I have come forward with my services, as poet-laureate to 
a highly respectable political party, of which you are a distinguished 
member. The enclosed are, I hope, only a beginning to the songs 
of triumph which you will earn in that contest. — I have the honour 
to be, sir, your obliged and devoted humble servant, 

E. Burns. 

About the same time, he wrote a song upon the beautiful 
young wife of Mr Oswald, and sent it to Mr Syme, enclosed in 



TO JOHN SYME, ESQ. 

You know that, among other high dignities, you have the honour 
to be my supreme court of critical judicature, from which there is 
no appeal. I enclose you a song which I composed since I saw you, 
and I am going to give you the history of it. Do you know that 
among much that I admire in the characters and manners of those 
great folks whom I have now the honour to call my acquaintances, 
the Oswald family, there is nothing charms me more than Mr 
Oswald's unconcealable attachment to that incomparable woman? 
Did you ever, my dear Syme, meet with a man who owed more to 
the Divine Giver of all good things than Mr O. ? A fine fortune ; a 
pleasing exterior ; self-evident amiable dispositions, and an ingenu- 
ous, upright mind, and that informed, too, much beyond the usual 
run of young fellows of his rank and fortune : and to all this, such a 
woman! — but of her I shall say nothing at all, in despair of saying 
anything adequate. In my song, I have endeavoured to do justice to 
what would be his feelings, on seeing, in the scene I have drawn, 
the habitation of his Lucy. As I am a good deal pleased with my 
performance, I in my first fervour thought of sending it to Mrs 
Oswald, but on second thoughts, perhaps what I offer as the honest 
incense of genuine respect, might, from the well-known character of 
poverty and poetry, be construed into some modification or other of 
that servility which my soul abhors. Do let me know some con- 
venient moment, ere the worthy family leave the town, that I, with 
propriety, may wait on them. In the circle of the fashionable herd, 
those who come either to shew their own consequence, or to borrow 
consequence from the visit — in such a mob I will not appear : mine 
is a different errand. — Yours, Kob t . Burns. 

The song enclosed was that which follows. It is curious that, 
when lately commenced, he had assigned the name Jeanie to the 
heroine, apparently having a totally different person in his eye. 
We have seen that it was no unusual thing with him to shift the 
devotion of verse from one person to another, or to make one 
poem serve as a compliment to more than one individual. 



SONG IN HONOUR OP MRS OSWALD. 155 

OH, WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN? 
Tune — We'll gang nae mair to yon Town. 

Oh, wat ye wha's in yon town, 

Ye see the e'enin' sun upon ? 
The fairest dame 's in yon town, 

That e'enin' sun is shining on. 

Now haply down yon gay green shaw, 

She wanders by yon spreading tree ; 
How blest ye flowers that round her blaw, 

Ye catch the glances o' her ee ! 

How blest ye birds that round her sing, 

And welcome in the blooming year ! 
And doubly welcome be the spring, 

The season to my Lucy dear. 

The sun blinks blithe on yon town, 

And on yon bonnie braes of Ayr ; 
But my delight in yon town, 

And dearest bliss, 1 is Lucy fair. 

"Without my love, not a' the charms 

0' Paradise could yield me joy ; 
But gie me Lucy in my arms, 

And welcome Lapland's dreary sky ! 

My cave wad be a lover's bower, 

Though raging winter rent the air ; 
And she a lovely little flower, 

That I wad tent and shelter there. 

Oh, sweet is she in yon town, 

Yon sinkin' sun's gano down upon; 
A fairer than's in yon town 

His setting beam ne'er shone upon. 

If angry fate is sworn my foe, 

And suffering I am doomed to bear; 
I careless quit aught else below, 

But spare me— spare me, Lucy dear ! 

For while life's dearest blood is warm, 
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart, 

And she — as fairest is her form! 
She has the truest, kindest heart ! 

1 In original manuscript, 'joy.' 



156 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Lucy Johnston, daughter of Wynne Johnston, Esq., of Hilton, 
was married 23d April 1793, to Eichard Alexander Oswald, Esq., 
of Auchincruive, in the county of Ayr. A portrait of the lady 
adorns the work entitled The Land of Burns, where a brief notice 
of her is wound up as follows : ' Alas for beauty, fortune, affection, 
and hopes ! This lovely and accomplished woman had not blessed 
Mr Oswald above a year beyond this period, when she fell into 
pulmonary consumption. A removal to a warmer climate was 
tried, in the hope of restoring health, but she died at Lisbon, in 
January 1798, at an age little exceeding thirty.' 

It appears from this letter, that Burns was in the habit of 
submitting his verses to the judgment of his friend Syme, and 
abiding by the decision. It may be added, that he had likewise 
a critical friend in Collector Mitchell, who, having been educated 
for the church, possessed a mind not ill qualified to judge of 
literary compositions. At his death, a whole sheaf of first copies 
of poems and songs by Burns was found in the collector's repo- 
sitories, on which it was understood that he had been asked to 
give his opinion. The bundle was lost by the family, and has 
never since been heard of. 

I had an opportunity, in 1826, of conversing with Mr Syme 
regarding Burns. He was a very good specimen of the Scotch 
gentleman of the latter part of the eighteenth century — a good 
deal of the bon-vivant, yet intelligent, well-bred, and full of 
anecdote. He referred with pride and pleasure to the meetings 
he had had with Burns in the same room in which I now found 
him living (in a villa called Byedale, on the Galloway side of the 
river.) He expatiated on the electric flashes of the poet's eloquence 
at table, and on the burning satiric shafts which he was accustomed 
to launch at those whom he disliked, or who betrayed any affecta- 
tion or meanness in their conversation. I particularly remember 
the old gentleman glowing over the discomfiture of a too con- 
siderate Amphytryon, who, when entertaining himself, Burns, 
and some others, lingered with screw in hand over a fresh bottle 
of claret, which he evidently wished to be forbidden to draw — 
till Burns transfixed him by a comparison of his present position 
with that of Abraham lingering over the filial sacrifice. Another 
souvenir of the poet's wit referred to a person who bored a com- 
pany for a considerable time with references to the many great 
people he had lately been visiting — 

No more of your titled acquaintances boast, 
And in what lordly circles you've been: 

An insect is still but an insect at most, 
Though it crawl on the head of a queen. 



INTIMACY WITH JOHN SYME. 157 

Mr Syme, in 1829, thus wrote regarding the personal appear- 
ance of Burns at the time of their intimacy: ' The poet's expression 
varied perpetually, according to the idea that predominated in his 
mind; and it was beautiful to remark how well the play of his 
lips indicated the sentiment he was about to utter. His eyes and 
lips, the first remarkable for fire, and the second for flexibility, 
formed at all times an index to his mind, and, as sunshine or 
shade predominated, you might have told, a priori, whether the 
company was to be favoured with a scintillation of wit, or a 
sentiment of benevolence, or a burst of fiery indignation .... I 
cordially concur with what Sir Walter Scott says of the poet's 
eyes. In his animated moments, and particularly when his anger 
was roused by instances of tergiversation, meanness, or tyranny, 
they were actually like coals of living fire? 

There is evidence from the bard himself, that he both looked 
up to Mr Syme as a judge of literature, and loved him as a 
companion. Sending him a dozen of porter from the Jerusalem 
Tavern of Dumfries, Burns accompanied the gift with a compli- 
mentary note — 

Oh, had the malt thy strength of mind, 

Or hops the flavour of thy wit, 
'Twere drink for first of human kind, 

A gift that even for Syme were fit. 

At Syme's own house, being pressed to stay and drink more, 
Burns hesitated ; then taking up a tumbler, he scribbled on it — 

There 's Death in the cup, sae beware — ■ 
Nay, mair, there is danger in touching ; 

But wlia can avoid the fell snare? 

The man and his wine's sae bewitching. 

So late as the 17th December 1795, when Burns was in declining 
health, being invited by Syme to dine, with a promise of the best 
company and the best cookery, he accompanied his apology with 
a similar compliment — 

No more of your guests, be they titled or not, 

And cookery the first in the nation; 
"Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit, 

Is proof to all other temptation. 

Syme possessed vivid talents, which Dr Currie regarded with 
such respect, that he pressed him to undertake the editing of the 
poet's life and writings. That he was also a man of probity and 



158 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

honour, a long respectable life fully testifies. Yet it is also true, 
that Mr Syme, like many other men of lively temperament, could 
not boast of a historical accuracy of narration. He most un- 
doubtedly was carried away by his imagination in his statement 
regarding the composition of Brace's Address to his troops. So 
also he appears to have been in a story, of which several versions 
have been given to the public. It relates to a conversation on 
some particulars of Burns's personal conduct, which took place in 
one of their social evenings at Ryedale. ' I might have spoken 
daggers,' says Mr Syme, ' but I did not mean them : Burns shook 
to the inmost fibre of his frame, and drew his sword-cane, when I 
exclaimed: "What! wilt thou thus, and in mine own house?" 
The poor fellow was so stung with remorse, that he dashed himself 
down on the floor.' This anecdote having been unluckily com- 
municated to the public in an article in the Quarterly Review by 
Sir Walter Scott, an undue importance has come to be attached 
to it. When the matter was rigidly investigated, nothing more 
could be substantiated than that Syme and Burns had one evening 
become foolishly serious in the midst of their merry-making — that 
some allusions by the one to the sins or irregularities of the other, 
led to a piece of mock-heroic very suitable to the occasion, Burns 
touching the head of his sword-cane, as implying that his honour 
might be avenged for any indignity, and Syme making a corre- 
sponding tragic start, with the words : ' What! in mine own house?' 
It was very natural for Mr Syme to retain but an obscure recollec- 
tion of the incident; but he cannot be acquitted of culpable 
incautiousness in allowing it to come before the world with a shade 
of seriousness attached to what never was more than a piece of 
rodomontade. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 1 

[After transcribing the song, Oh, wat ye wha's in yon Town? the 
poet goes on : — ] 

Your objection to the last two stanzas of my song, Let me in this 
ae Night, does not strike me as just. You will take notice, that my 
heroine is replying quite at her ease, and when she talks of 'faithless 
man,' she gives not the least reason to believe that she speaks from 
her own experience, but merely from observation of what she has 
seen around her. But of all boring matters in this boring world, 
criticising my own works is the greatest bore. 

1 In original, there is no date or post-mark. Currie gives as a date May 1795. 



SONG— c ON CHLOEIS BEING ILL.' 159 

ADDRESS TO THE WOODLARK. 

Tune — Where 'U bonnie Ann lie? or, Loch-Erroch Side. 

O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay ! 
Nor quit for me the trembling spray ; 
A hapless lover courts thy lay, 
Thy soothing, fond complaining. 

Again, again that tender part, 
That I may catch thy melting art ; 
For surely that wad touch her heart, 
"Wha kills me wi' disdaining. 

Say, was thy little mate unkind, 
And heard thee as the careless wind ? 
Oh! nocht but love and sorrow joined, 
Sic notes o' wo could wauken. 

Thou tells o' never-ending care ; 
O' speechless grief, and dark despair : 
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair, 
Or my poor heart is broken ! 

Let me know, your very first leisure, how you like this song. 1 



ON CHLORIS BEING ILL. 

Tune — Aye wakin 0. 



Long, long the night, 

Heavy comes the morrow, 
"While my soul's delight 

Is on her bed of sorrow. 

Can I cease to care ? 

Can I cease to languish? 
While my darling fair 

Is on the couch of anguish? 

Every hope is fled, 

Every fear is terror ; 
Slumber even I dread; 

Every dream is horror. 

This sentence appears in Carrie's edition, but not in the original manuscript 



160 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Hear me, Powers divine ! 

Oh, in pity hear me ! 
Take aught else of mine, 

But my Chloris spare me I 

How do you like the foregoing? The Irish air, Humours of Glen, 
is a great favourite of mine, and as, except the silly stuff in the 
Poor Soldier, there are not any decent verses for it, I have written 
for it as follows: — 

THEIR GROVES O' SWEET MYRTLE. 
Tune — Humours of Glen. 

Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon, 
Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume; 

Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan, f er n 

Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom. 

Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers, 

Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen: 
For there, lightly tripping amang the wild-flowers, 
A listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean. 

Though rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys, 

And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave ; 
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace, 

What are they ? — the haunt of the tyrant and slave I 

The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains, 

The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain ; 
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains, 

Save love's willing fetters— the chains o' his Jean! 

Yours, R. B. 

P.S\ — Stop! turn over. 



'TWAS NA HER BONNIE BLUE EE WAS MY RUIN. 

Tune— Laddie, lie near me. 

'Twas na her bonnie blue ee was my ruin ; 
Fair though she be, that was ne'er my undoing: 
'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us, 
'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness. 

Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me, 
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me ; 
But though fell fortune should fate us to sever, 
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever '. 



PRESENT OF A PICTURE FROM MR THOMSON. Id 

Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest, 
And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest ! 
And thou 'rt the angel that never can alter, 
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter. 

Let me hear from you. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

You must not think, my good sir, that I have any intention to 
enhance the value of my gift, when I say, in justice to the ingenious 
and worthy artist, that the design and execution of the Cotter's 
Saturday Night is, in my opinion, one of the happiest productions of 
Allan's pencil. I shall be grievously disappointed if you are not 
quite pleased with it. 

The figure intended for your portrait, I think strikingly like you, 
as far as I can remember your phiz. This should make the piece 
interesting to your family every way. Tell me whether Mrs Burns 
finds you out among the figures. 

I cannot express the feeling of admiration with which I have read 
your pathetic Address to the Woodlark, your elegant panegyric on 
Caledonia, and your affecting verses on Chloris's illness. Every 
repeated perusal of these gives new delight. The other song to 
Laddie, lie near me, though not equal to these, is very pleasing. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[Post-mark, May 9,] 1795. 
HOW CRUEL ARE THE PARENTS! 

ALTERED FROM AN OLD ENGLISH SONG. 

Tune— John Anderson my Jo. 
How cruel are the parents, 

Who riches only prize ; 
And to the wealthy booby, 

Poor woman sacrifice ! 
Meanwhile, the hapless daughter 

Has but a choice of strife ; — 
To shun a tyrant father's hate, 

Become a wretched wife. 

The ravening hawk pursuing, 

The trembling dove thus flies, 
To shun impelling ruin 

Awhile her pinions tries : 
Till of escape despairing, 

No shelter or retreat, 
She trusts the ruthless falconer, 

And drops beneath his feet. 






1G2 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

MARK YONDER POMP OF COSTLY FASHION. 
Tune— Deil tak the Wars. 

Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion, 

Round the wealthy, titled bi'ide : 
But when compared with real passion, 

Poor is all that princely pride. 

What are the showy treasures ? 

What are the noisy pleasures ? 
The gay gaudy glare of vanity and art : 

The polished jewel's blaze 

May draw the wondering gaze, 

And courtly grandeur bright 

The fancy may delight, 
But never, never can come near the heart. 

But did you see my dearest Chloris, 

In simplicity's array ; 
Lovely as yonder sweet opening flower is, 

Shrinking from the gaze of day. 

Oh then, the heart alarming, 

And all resistless charming, 
In Love's delightful fetters she chains the willing soul! 

Ambition would disown 

The world's imperial crown, 

Even Avarice would deny 

His worshipped deity, 
And feel through every vein Love's raptures roll. 

Well ! this is not amiss. You see how I answer your orders — 
your tailor could not be more punctual. I am just now in a high fit 
for poetising, provided that the strait-jacket of criticism don't cure 
me. If you can, in a post or two, administer a little of the intoxi- 
cating potion of your applause, it will raise your humble servant's 
frenzy to any height you want. I am at this moment ' holding high 
converse ' with the Muses, and have not a word to throw away on 
such a prosaic dog as you are. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

Map 1795. 

Ten thousand thanks for your elegant present — though I am 
ashamed of the value of it being bestowed on a man who has not, by 
any means, merited such an instance of kindness. I have shewn it 
to two or three judges of the first abilities here, and they all agree 
with me in classing it as a first-rate production. My phiz is sae 



Allan's picture— cotter's Saturday night. 163 

kenspeckle, that the very joiner's apprentice, whom Mrs Burns 
employed to break up the parcel (I was out of town that day), knew 
it at once. My most grateful compliments to Allan, who has 
honoured my rustic Muse so much with his masterly pencil. One 
strange coincidence is, that the little one who is making the felonious 
attempt on the cat's tail, is the most striking likeness of an ill-deedie, 
d — n'd, wee, rumble-gairie urchin of mine, whom, from that propen- 
sity to witty wickedness, and manfu' mischief, which, even at twa 
days' auld, I foresaw would form the striking features of his disposi- 
tion, I named Willie Nicol, after a certain friend of mine, who is one 
of the masters of a grammar-school in a city which shall be name- 
less. Several people think that Allan's likeness of me is more 
striking than Nasmyth's, for which I sat to him half-a-dozen times. 
However, there is an artist of considerable merit just now in this 
town, who has hit the most remarkable likeness of what I am at this 
moment, that I think ever was taken of anybody. It is a small 
miniature, and as it will be in your town getting itself be-crystallised, 
&c. I have some thoughts of suggesting to you to prefix a vignette 
taken from it to my song, Contented vn' Little and Canty wi' Mair, in 
order the portrait of my face and the picture of my mind may go 
down the stream of time together. 

Give the enclosed epigram to my much-valued friend Cunningham, 
and tell him, that on Wednesday I go to visit a friend of his, to 
whom his friendly partiality in speaking of me in a manner intro- 
duced me — I mean a well-known military and literary character, 
Colonel Dirom. 

You do not tell me how you liked my two last songs. A!re they 
condemned ? 



MR, THOMSON TO BURNS. 

13th May 1795. 

It gives me great pleasure to find that you are all so well satisfied 
with Mr Allan's production. The chance resemblance of your little 
fellow, whose promising disposition appeared so very early, and 
suggested whom he should be named after, is curious enough. I am 
acquainted with that person, who is a prodigy of learning and genius, 
and a pleasant fellow, though no saint. 

You really make me blush, when you tell me you have not merited 
the drawing from me. I do not think I can ever repay you, or 
sufficiently esteem and respect you, for the liberal and kind manner 
in which you have entered into the spirit of my undertaking, which 
could not have been perfected without you. So I beg you would not 
make a fool of me again by speaking of obligation. 

I like your two last songs very much, and am happy to find you 
are in such a high fit of poetising. Long may it last ! Clarke has 
made a fine pathetic air to Mallet's superlative ballad of William and 
Margaret, and is to give it to me, to be enrolled among the elect. 



164 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

These letters refer to a very interesting picture of the Cotter's 
Saturday Night, which had been executed by the first Scottish 
artist of his day for such subjects — the ingenious David Allan. Mr 
Thomson, it is to be observed, had from the beginning thought 
Burns entitled to pecuniary remuneration for his songs, and, 
though not rich himself, and his work was far from being a pro- 
mising adventure, he had pressed one small pecuniary gift upon 
the poet. Burns, on the other hand, as we have seen, was 
decidedly repugnant to such gifts, and threatened, in the event of 
a second, to discontinue his assistance. In these circumstances, Mr 
Thomson's sense of obligation sought relief in small presents to the 
poet. On one occasion, he ventured on a shawl for Mrs Burns, of a 
kind then novel and fashionable. He now sends an original picture 
by an artist of reputation, and with a subject the selection of which 
must have been felt as a compliment by the bard. He had also 
been, as we have seen, liberal in the bestowal of copies of his first 
half volume, which was all that was published in Burns's lifetime. 

In the letter of Burns to Mr Thomson, in which the poet 
describes the arrival of the picture, there is a passage which Dr 
Currie omitted : ' As to what you hint of my coming to Edin- 
burgh, I know of no such arrangement.' One cannot well resist 
the inclination to believe, that this relates to a plan of the bene- 
volent Laird of Fintry for the benefit of Burns. Professor Walker 
speaks of such a scheme as belonging to an earlier period of the 
poet's official career. ' Mr Graham,' he says, ' taking advantage of 
the reasonable measure of official reputation which Burns possessed, 
had, with no less judgment than kindness, projected a plan for his 
benefit. Could this plan have been executed, it would in all pro- 
bability have been equally effectual in providing him with the means 
of comfortable subsistence, with a stimulus to mental exertion, and 
with those moral restraints which his character appears to have 
required. The plan was to appoint him to a respectable office at 
Leith, with an easy duty, and with emoluments rising nearly to 
L.200 per annum. There he would naturally have formed a 
stricter intimacy with his literary patrons in Edinburgh. His 
ambition to renew their applause, would have urged him to employ 
his leisure in poetical compositions ; and his desire to retain their 
favourable notice, would have been the most efficient correction 
of those irregular habits, and that neglect of character, into which 

he was betrayed by his passions But all these friendly designs 

of his patron were frustrated by the imprudence of the poet.' It 
seems not unlikely that, now the blast of 1792 was fairly over- 
blown, and Burns's official qualifications had stood the test of three 
more years, Mr Graham had renewed his well-meant plan, and 
entertained some hopes of carrying it into effect. 



SONG—' LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER.' 165 

BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 1 

ENGLISH SONG. 

FORLORN, MY LOVE, NO COMFORT NEAR. 

Tune— Let me in this ae Night. 

Forlorn, my love, no comfort near, 

Far, far from thee, I wander here j 

Far, far from thee, the fate severe 

At which I most repine, love. 

CHORUS. 

Oh, wert thou, love, but near me ; 
But near, near, near me : 
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me, 
And mingle sighs with mine, love. 

Around me scowls a wintry sky, 
That blasts each bud of hope and joy ; 
And shelter, shade, nor home have I, 
Save in those arms of thine, love. 

Cold, altered friendship's cruel part, 

To poison fortune's ruthless dart — 

Let me not break thy faithful heart, 

And say that fate is mine, love. 

But dreary though the moments fleet, 
Oh, let me think we yet shall meet ! 
That only ray of solace sweet 
Can on thy Chloris shine, love. 

How do you like the foregoing? I have written it within this 
feeur : so much for the speed of my Pegasus ; but what say you to 
liis bottom ? 



URNS TO MR THOMSON 

[Post-mark, July 3,] 1795. 

SCOTTISH BALLAD. 

LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER. 

Tune— The Lothian Lassie. 

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, 

And sair wi' his love he did deave me ; 
I said there was naething I hated like men — 

The deuce gae wi'm to believe mc, believe me; 

The deuce gae wi'm to believe me. 

1 This letter has no date or post-mark. In Currio's series, it is placed errone- 
ously after that which here follows it. 



166 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

He spak o' the darts o' my bonnie black een, 

And vowed for my love he was dying ; 
I said he might die when he liked for Jean — 

The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying; 

The Lord forgie me for lying ! 

A well-stocked mailen — himsel for the laird — farm 

And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers : 

I never loot on that I kenned it, or cared, 

But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers ; 
But thought I might hae waur offers. 

But what wad ye think ? — in a fortnight or less, 

The deil tak his taste to gae near her ! 
He up the Gateslack to my black cousin Bess, 

Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her, could bear her; 

Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her. 

But a' the niest week as I fretted wi' care, 

I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock, 
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there ! 

I glowred as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock; 

I glowred as I'd seen a warlock. 

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, 

Lest neibors might say I was saucy ; 
My wooer he capered as he'd been in drink, 

And vowed I was his dear lassie, dear lassie ; 

And vowed I was his dear lassie. 

I speered for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, 

Gin she had recovered her hearin', 
And how my auld shoon fitted her shachl't feet, 1 distorted 

But, Heavens ! how he fell a swearin', a swearin'; 

But, Heavens ! how he fell a swearin'. 

He begged, for guidsake, I wad be his wife, 

Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow : 
So e'en to preserve the poor body in life, 

I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow ; 

I think I maun wed him to-morrow. 



FRAGMENT. 
Tune— The Caledonian Hunt's Delight. 

"Why, why tell thy lover, 

Bliss he never must enjoy ? 
"Why, why undeceive him, 

And give all his hopes the lie \ 

^ TtTien a lover passes over from one mistress to another, the latter ia said to 
lake up the old shoes of her predeeessor. 



GATESLACK AND DALGARNOCK. 167 

O why, while fancy, raptured, slumbers, 

Chloris, Chloris all the theme, 
"Why, why wouldst thou cruel, 

Wake thy lover from his dream ? 

Such is the peculiarity of the rhythm of this air, that I find it 
impossible to make another stanza to suit it. 

I am at present quite occupied with the charming sensations of 
the toothache, so have not a word to spare. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

3d June 1795. 
My dear Sir — Your English verses to Let me in this ae Night, are 
tender and beautiful; and your ballad to the Lothian Lassie is a 
master-piece for its humour and naivete. The fragment for the 
Caledonian Hunt is quite suited to the original measure of the air, 
and, as it plagues you so, the fragment must content it. I would 
rather, as I said before, have had bacchanalian words, had it so 
pleased the poet; but, nevertheless, for what we have received, 
Lord, make us thankful ! 

[In this letter, Mr Thomson objected to the introduction of 
the word Gateslack, and also that of Dalgarnock, in the song of 
the Braw Wooer.'] 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[Post-mark, August 3,] 1795. 
In Whistle, and I'll come to ye, my Lad, the iteration of that line 
is tiresome to my ear. Here goes what I think is an improvement — 

O whistle, and I '11 come to ye, my lad ; 
O whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad; 
Though father and mother and a' should gae mad, 
Thy Jeanie will venture wi' ye, my lad. 

In fact, a fair dame, at whose shrine I, the Priest of the Nine, offer 
up the incense of Parnassus — a dame whom the Graces have attired 
in witchcraft, and whom the Loves have armed with lightning — a 
fair one, herself the heroine of the song, insists on the amendment, 
and dispute her commands if you dare ! 

Gateslack, the word you object to, is the name of a particular 
place, a kind of passage up among the Lowther Hills, on the confines 
of this county. Dalgarnock is also the name of a romantic spot 
near the Nith, where are still a ruined church and a burial-ground. 
However, let the first run, « He up the lang loan,' &c. 



168 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

O THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE. 

Tune — This is no my aim, House. 

CHORUS. 

O this is no my ain lassie, 

Fair though the lassie be ; 
O weel ken I my ain lassie, 

Kind love is in her ee. 1 

I see a form, I see a face, 
Ye weel may wi' the fairest place : 
It wants, to me, the witching grace, 
The kind love that's in her ee. 

She's bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall, 
And lang has had my heart in thrall; 
And aye it charms my very sauL 
The kind love that's in her ee. 

A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, ay 

To steal a blink, by a' unseen ; 
But gleg as light are lovers' een, quick 

When kind love is in the ee. 

It may escape the courtly sparks, 
It may escape the learned clerks ; 
But weel the watching lover marks 
The kind love that's in her ee. 

Do you know that you have roused the torpidity of Clarke at last ? 
He has requested me to write three or four songs for him, which he 
is to set to music himself. The enclosed sheet contains two songs 
for him, which please to present to my valued friend Cunningham. 

I enclose the sheet open, both for your inspection, and that you 
may copy the song, Bonnie was yon rosy Brier. I do not know 
whether I am right, but that song pleases me ; and as it is extremely 
probable that Clarke's newly-roused celestial spark will be soon 
smothered in the fogs of indolence, if you like the song, it may go 
as Scottish verses to the air of I wish my Love toas in a Mire; and 
poor Erskine's English lines may follow. 

I enclose you a For at that, and dJ that, which was never in print : 
it is a much superior song to mine. I have been told that it was 
composed by a lady. 

1 The reader will learn with surprise, that the poet originally wrote this 
chorus— 

O this is no my ain Body, 
Kind though the Body be, &c. 



SONG ADDRESSED TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 



TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 

SCOTTISH SONG. 

Now spring has clad the grove in green, 

And strewed the lea wi' flowers : 
The furrowed, waving corn is seen 

Kejoice in fostering showers ; 
While ilka thing in nature join 

Their sorrows to forego, 
O why thus all alone are mine 

The weary steps of wo ! 

The trout within yon wimpling burn 

Glides swift— a silver dart ; 
And safe beneath the shady thorn 

Defies the angler's art. 
My life was ance that careless stream, 

That wanton trout was I ; 
But love, wi' unrelenting beam, 

Has scorched my fountains dry. 

The little floweret's peaceful lot, 

In yonder cliff that grows, 
"Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot, 

Nae ruder visit knows, 
Was mine ; till love has o'er me past, 

And blighted a' my bloom, 
And now beneath the withering blast 

My youth and joy consume. 

The wakened laverock warbling springs, 

And climbs the early sky, 
Winnowing blithe her dewy wings 

In morning's rosy eye. 
As little recked I sorrow's power, 

Until the flowery snare 
O' witching love, in luckless hour, 

Made me the thrall o' care. 

O had my fate been Greenland snows, 

Or Afric's burning zone, 
Wi' man and nature leagued my foes. 

So Peggy ne'er I'd known ! 
The wretch whaso doom is, ' hope nae maii\ 

What tongue his woes can tell! 
Within whase bosom, save despair, 

Nae kinder spirits dwell. 
IV H 



170 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 



O BONNIE WAS YON ROSY BRIER. 

bonnie was yon rosy brier, 

That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man; 

And bonnie she, and ah! how dear! 
It shaded frae the e'enin' sun. 

Yon rosebuds in the morning dew, 

How pure amang the leaves sae green ; 

But purer was the lover's vow 

They witnessed in their shade yestreen. 

All in its rude and prickly bower, 

That crimson rose, how sweet and fair; 

But love is far a sweeter flower 
Amid life's thorny path o' care. 

The pathless wild and wimpling burn, 

Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine ; 
And I the world, nor wish, nor scorn, 

Its joys and griefs alike resign. 

Written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my 
poems, presented to the lady whom, in so many fictitious reveries of 
passion, but with the most ardent sentiments of real friendship, I 
have so often sung under the name of Chloris : — 

' To Chloris.' [See antea, p. 104.] 

Une bagatelle de Vamitie. Coil A. 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Edinburgh, 3d Augmt 1795. 

My dear Sir — This will be delivered to you by a Dr Brianton, 
who has read your works, and pants for the honour of your acquaint- 
ance. I do not know the gentleman ; but his friend, who applied to 
me for this introduction, being an excellent young man, I have no 
doubt he is worthy of all acceptation. 

My eyes have just been gladdened, and my mind feasted, with 
your last packet — full of pleasant things indeed. What an imagina- 
tion is yours!— it is superfluous to tell you, that I am delighted with 
all the three songs, as well as with your elegant and tender verses 
to Chloris. 

I am sorry you should be induced to alter '0 whistle, and I'll 
come to ye, my lad,' to the prosaic line, ' Thy Jeanie will venture wi' 
ye, my lad.' I must be permitted to say, that I do not think the 
latter either reads or sings so well as the former. I wish, therefore, 
you would in my name petition the charming Jeanie, whoever she be, 
to let the line remain unaltered. 



BURNS AND THE DUKE OF QUEENSBERRY. 171 

I should be happy to see Mr Clarke produce a few airs to be 
joined to your verses. Everybody regrets his writing so very little, 
as everybody acknowledges his ability to write well. Pray, was the 
resolution formed coolly before dinner, or was it a midnight vow, 
made over a bowl of punch with the bard ? 

I shall not fail to give Mr Cunningham what you have sent him. 

P.S. — The lady's For a! that, and a' that, is sensible enough, but no 
more to be compared to yours, than I to Hercules. 



To the summer of this year, Dr Currie assigns an 

INSCRIPTION 

FOR AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE, AT KERROUGHTREE, THE SEAT OF MR HERON. 

Thou of an independent mind, 

With soul resolved, with soul resigned ; 

Prepared Power's proudest frown to brave, 

"Who wilt not be, nor have a slave ; 

Virtue alone who dost revere, 

Thy own reproach alone dost fear, 

Approach this shrine, and worship here. 

Allusion has several times been made to the Duke of Queens- 
berry, as a personage held in hatred by the poet. His Grace's 
character requires little illustration here. As Earl of March, his 
career on the turf had gained him notoriety. Succeeding in 1773 
to the highest title of his family, he had not with years and 
honours acquired any additional share of public respect. To this 
heartless grandee, who resided almost constantly in London, was 
committed the chief territorial influence in Dumfriesshire, with 
all its political consequence. Country gentlemen bowed to the 
yoke ; but the exciseman of Dumfries — delighted at all times to 

' Bare the mean heart that lurks beneath a star' — 

omitted no opportunity of doing justice upon the sybarite. The 
two following stanzas were probably a part of the election ballad 
of 1790, but omitted from the copy sent by the author to Mi 
Graham : — 

How shall I sing Drumlanrig's Grace — 
Discarded remnant of a race 

Once great in martial story ? 
His forbears' virtues all contrasted — ancestors 

The very name of Douglas blasted— 

His that inverted glory. 



172 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore ; 
But he has superadded more, 

And sunk them in contempt : 
Follies and crimes have stained the name, 
But, Queensberry, thine the virgin claim, 

From aught that's good exempt. 

In 1795, the duke stripped his domains of Drumlanrig, in 
Dumfriesshire, and Neidpath, in Peeblesshire, of all the wood fit 
for being cut, in order to furnish a dowry for the Countess of 
Yarmouth, whom he supposed to be his daughter, and to whom, by 
a singular piece of good-fortune on her part, Mr George Selwyn, 
the celebrated wit, also left a fortune, under the same (probably 
equally mistaken) impression. It fell to the lot of Wordsworth 
to avenge on the ' degenerate Douglas ' his leaving old Neidpath 
so ' beggared and outraged.' The vindication of nature in the 
case of Drumlanrig became a pleasing duty to Burns. In one of 
his rides, he inscribed the following verses on the back of a 
window-shutter in an inn or toll-house near the scene of the 
devastations : — 

[verses on the destruction of the woods near drumlanrig.] 

As on the banks o' wandering Nith, 

Ae smiling simmer-morn I strayed, 
And traced its bonnie howes and haughs, 

Where Unties sang and lambkins played, 
I sat me down upon a craig, 

And drank my fill o' fancy's dream, 
When, from the eddying deep below, 

Uprose the genius of the stream. 

Dark, like the frowning rock, his brow, 

And troubled, like his wintry wave, 
And deep, as sughs the boding wind 

Amang his eaves, the sigh he gave — 
'And came ye here, my son,' he cried, 

' To wander in my birken shade ? 
To muse some favourite Scottish theme, 

Or sing some favourite Scottish maid. 

' There was a time, it's nae lang syne, 

Ye might hae seen me in my pride, 
When a' my banks sae bravely saw 

Their woody pictures in my tide; 
When hanging beech and spreading elm 

Shaded my stream sae clear and cool ; 
And stately oaks their twisted arms 

Threw broad and dark across the pool ; 



RENCONTRE WITH MR PATTISON. 173 

' When glinting, through the trees, appeared 

The wee white cot aboon the mill, 
And peacefu' rose its ingle reek, 

That slowly curled up the hill. 
But now the cot is bare and cauld, 

Its branchy shelter's lost and gane, 
And scarce a stinted birk is left 

To shiver in the blast its lane.' 

' Alas !' said I, ' what ruefu' chance 

Has twined ye o' your stately trees ? 
Has laid your rocky bosom bare ? 

Has stripped the deeding o' your braes ? 
Was it the bitter eastern blast, 

That scatters blight in early spring? 
Or was't the wil'fire scorched their boughs, 

Or canker-worm wi' secret sting?' 

' Nae eastlin blast,' the sprite replied ; 

' It blew na here sae fierce and fell, 
And on my dry and halesome banks 

Nae canker-worms get leave to dwell : 
Man! cruel man!' the genius sighed — 

As through the cliffs he sank him down — 
' The worm that gnawed my bonnie trees, 

That reptile wears a ducal crown.' 

Burns had a pleasant rencontre this autumn with an old 
acquaintance, Mr Pattison of Kelvin Grove, brother of a gentle- 
man who had been serviceable with regard to the first Edin- 
burgh edition of the poems. Mr Pattison passed through 
Dumfries in the course of a visit to his brother, a clergyman, 
residing in that county; he was accompanied by his son, who 
was then a boy, and a groom, all three travelling on horse- 
back. The son, Mr John Pattison, now residing at Carnbroe, 
Lanarkshire, has a perfect recollection of the circumstances. 
On riding up to the inn, a gentleman was seen standing on 
the stairs, whom Mr Pattison at once hailed as Burns. To quote 
from his son's recital: — £ He who had remained motionless 
till now, rushed down the steps, and caught my father by the 
hand, saying : " Mr Pattison, I am delighted to see you here ; how 
do you do ? " I need not say this was our immortal bard. My 
father continued : " Burns, I hope you will dine with me at four 
o'clock ? " " Too happy, sir," replied the poet. " Then, may I beg 
of you to go with my compliments to your friend, Dr Maxwell, 
and say, I will be glad if he will do us the pleasure of joining 
us?" At the hour named, my father sat down at the head of the 
table, Dr Maxwell at the foot, and the grammar-school boy 



174 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

opposite Bums. Upwards of half a century has p *ssed away ; 
but the recollection of that day is as fresh and green in my 
memory, as if the events recorded had occurred yesterday. It 
was, in fact, a new era in my existence. I had never before sat 
after dinner ; but now I was chained to my chair till late at night, 
or rather early in the morning. Both Dr Maxwell and my father 
were highly-gifted, eloquent men. The poet was in his best vein. 
I can never forget the animation and glorious intelligence of his 
countenance, the rich, deep tones of his musical voice, and those 
matchless eyes, which absolutely appeared to flash fire, and stream 
forth rays of living light. It was not conversation I heard ; it 
was an outburst of noble sentiment, brilliant wit, and a flood of 
sympathy and good-will to fellow-men. Burns repeated many 
verses that had never seen the light, chiefly political ; no impure 
or obscene idea was uttered, or I believe thought of: it was alto- 
gether an intellectual feast. A lofty, pure, and transcendant 
genius alone could have made so deep and lasting an impres- 
sion on a mere boy, who had read nothing, and who does not 
remember to have heard Burns named till that day.' ] 

We have already had some glimpses of the personal habits of 
Burns in Dumfries. It was a life of official duty, certified to have 
been well performed, and not without respectable literary effort, 
as the many songs composed for Thomson and Johnson fully 
testify. It was also a life maintaining a certain external decorum, 
and to some kind-hearted people, who did not look narrowly 
or judge rigidly, it appeared as a life really respectable. There 
was, for example, a young teacher at the grammar-school, himself 
a poet and an enthusiast in literature — a pure-minded man, who 
took amiable views of most people he met, and of all who blacked 
paper in particular. James Gray, seeing Burns only as the careful 
tender of his children's education, hearing him speak only in 
the hours of soberness, never regarded him as otherwise than his 
best friends would have wished to regard him. Even Mrs Burns, 
who ought to have known her husband well, appeared to have no 
fault to find with him. She was eager to aver that she had never 
known him return home in such a state as to prevent his seeing 
that the house was properly locked up, or to require any assist- 
ance in taking off his clothes. Mr Findlater, the supervisor, 
though not more than a little free in his own habits, as gentlemen 
then used to be, spoke favourably of those of Burns. It was, 
nevertheless, a life involving far more dissipation than was gene- 
rally considered as allowable even in those days of laxity. There 

1 The extract is given, with some authorised alterations of phrase, from a letter 
published anonymously by Mr John Pattison in the Glasgoxo Citizen, January 184& 



PERSONAL REPUTE OF BURNS. 175 

was only a variance of remark or report upon the subject, 
according as individuals were qualified or inclined to judge. In 
certain circles, a candid stranger might have heard of the over- 
frequent indulgences of our poet in gay company — of his being 
dangerously attractive to young men — of his occasionally descend- 
ing into society utterly unworthy of him, and which no man can 
approach without contamination. It would have been found that 
some young women, who enjoyed the acquaintance of the amiable 
wife of the poet, were only able to visit her in a manner by 
stealth, their fathers deeming it unadvisable that they should see 
much of Burns. It was little, after this, that some should inveigh 
against his arrogance in conversation, or point out that a worthy 
member of society, who disliked his habits or opinions, was as sure 
of his satire as if he had been, from any cause, really obnoxious 
to public odium. Again, while Burns was spoken of coldly in 
some families of the middle class, cultivators of the sober respec- 
tabilities proper to their grade, he might have been found a 
favourite in higher circles, which he visited only under such an 
awe as to keep his wilder nature in check. It is a most per- 
plexing subject among his various biographers, but only because 
of the very various and incoherent conduct of the bard himself — 
the quiet ' Mr Burns ' in some eyes, the wild bacchanal at times 
in others — the generous sentimentalist at some moments, and not 
long after, the very high-priest of the sensual and the ridiculous. 
We have seen this variableness of character even in what appear 
the most painful crises of his life. He wrote a lively epistle in 
Scotch verse the clay after To Mary in Heaven was wrung from his 
anguished heart ; and ere many days had elapsed from the humi- 
liating censure of the Excise-board, he carried on a merry dinner- 
party till eleven o'clock next day. Men now sympathise with the 
unworthiness of his fate, and certainly it was far below his 
deserts ; but it is highly questionable if Burns took, except 
transiently, the same views of it himself. No — 

* A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa', 
A night o' guid-fellowship sowthers it a' ; 
When at the blithe end of our journey at last, 
Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past* 

This is Burns's own view of his life, and it is in some measure 
true to his ordinary feelings and practice. 1 

In the autumn of 1795, Burns suffered much in mind from the 
protracted illness of his infant daughter, who at length died at 
such a distance as to prevent him from paying her the last duties. 2 

1 See Appendix, No. 13. 2 This infant died and was buried at Mauchline. 



176 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

According to Dr Currie, the poet's health had for upwards of a 
year before his death — that is, from early summer of 1795 — begun 
to give way. This would appear to be quite true, for a gentleman 
informs me that, calling for Burns in spring 1795, he found him 
ailing. He rubbed his shoulders slightly, and said : ' I am 
beginning to feel as if I were soon to be an old man.' But, 
indeed, we have his own testimony in a letter to Mrs Dunlop, of 
25th June 1794, that he was even then threatened with a punish- 
ment for the follies of his youth, in the form of a flying gout, 
though he hoped that his medical friends were mistaken in their 
surmises. The fact is, that Burns had lived too fast to be what 
most men are at seven-and-thirty. According to Dr Currie, who 
had access to the best information on the subject, the poet was 
confined with ' an accidental complaint,' from October 1795 till 
the January following. The fact of the ailment and its date may 
be admitted; but it would appear that the confinement was at 
least not constant, or such as to interfere with the performance of 
duty. Professor "W alker passed two days with him in November, 
and observed no unfavourable change in his looks, his spirits, or 
his appetite. 

' Circumstances,' says the professor, { having at that time led 
me to Scotland, after- an absence of eight years, during which my 
intercourse with Burns had been almost suspended, I felt myseli 
strongly prompted to visit him. For this purpose, I went to 
Dumfries, and called upon him early in the forenoon. I found 
him in a small house of one storey. 1 He was sitting on a window- 
seat reading, with the doors open, and the family arrangements 
going on in his presence, and altogether without that appearance 
of snugness which a student requires. After conversing with him 
for some time, he proposed a walk, and promised to conduct me 
through some of his favourite haunts. We accordingly quitted 
the town, and wandered a considerable way up the beautiful banks 
of the Nith. Here he gave me an account of his latest produc- 
tions, and repeated some satirical ballads which he had composed, 
to favour one of the candidates at the last borough election. 2 . . . 
He repeated also his fragment of an Ode to Liberty, with marked 
and peculiar energy, and shewed a disposition, which, however, 
was easily repressed, to throw out peculiar remarks, of the same 
nature with those for which he had been reprehended. On 
finishing our walk, he passed some time with me at the inn, and 
I left him early in the evening, to make another visit at some 
distance from Dumfries. 



1 The house is one of two floors. 

2 The ballads on the Kirkcudbright election ; victe supra. 



VISIT OF MR JOSIAH WALKER. 177 

'On the second morning after,' continues the professor, 'I 
returned with a friend, who was acquainted with the poet, and we 
found him ready to pass a part of the day with us at the inn. On 
this occasion, I did not think him quite so interesting as he had 
appeared at his outset. His conversation was too elaborate, and 
his expression weakened by a frequent endeavour to give it arti- 
ficial strength. He had been accustomed to speak for applause 
in the circles which he frequented, and seemed to think it neces- 
sary, in making the most common remark, to depart a little from 
the ordinary simplicity of language, and to couch it in something of 
epigrammatic point. In his praise and censure, he was so decisive 
as to render a dissent from his judgment difficult to be reconciled 
with the laws of good-breeding. His wit was not more licentious 
than is unhappily too venial in higher circles, though I thought 
him rather unnecessarily free in the avowal of his excesses. Such 
were the clouds by which the pleasures of the evening were 
partially obscured, but frequent coruscations of genius were 
visible between them. When it began to grow late, he shewed no 
disposition to retire, but called for fresh supplies of liquor, with a 
freedom which might be excusable, as we were in an inn, and no 
condition had been distinctly made, though it might easily have 
been inferred, had the inference been welcome, that he was to 
consider himself as our guest ; nor was it till he saw us worn out 

that he departed, about three in the morning Upon the 

whole, I found this last interview not quite so gratifying as I had 
expected; although I had discovered in his conduct no errors 
which I had not seen in men who stand high in the favour of 
society, or sufficient to account for the mysterious insinuations 
which I had heard against his character. He on this occasion drank 
freely without being intoxicated, a circumstance from which I 
concluded, not only that his constitution was still unbroken, but 
that he was not addicted to solitary cordials ; for if he had tasted 
liquor in the morning, he must have easily yielded to the excess 
of the evening.' 

It is proper to state the remark which a friend of Professor 
Walker has made to us respecting these anecdotes of Burns — 
namely, that the learned gentleman was unconscious of the 
fastidiousness which eight years of refined life in England had 
created in his own mind, and thus unintentionally judged of 
Burns's manners more severely than was strictly just. The de 
haut en has style in which the professor treats Burns is also 
obvious to remark. The poet, in his own time, was too apt to be 
regarded in this manner by well-wishers, as well as enemies or the 
merely indifferent. And one cannot resist the feeling that, if 
Burns had not been looked upon in his life and for some years 



178 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

after his death as only a poor man who had attracted some atten- 
tion by clever verses, more tenderness would have been shewn 
towards frailties which we every day see overlooked in men that 
have attained or been born to an elevated place in the merely 
social scale. 

At this time the young actress, Miss Fontenelle, for whom 
the poet had written an address three years before, was again 
performing in the Dumfries theatre, and he was once more per- 
suaded to pen some lines for her service. They are introduced 
by himself in a letter of dolorous tone to Mrs Dunlop. 



TO MRS DUNLOP. 

15th December 1795. 

My dear Friend — As I am in a complete Decemberish humour, 
gloomy, sullen, stupid, as even the Deity of Dulness herself could 
wish, I shall not drawl out a heavy letter with a number of heavier 
apologies for my late silence. Only one I shall mention, because I 
know you will sympathise in it : these four months, a sweet little 
girl, my youngest child, has been so ill, that every day, a week or 
less threatened to terminate her existence. There had much need 
be many pleasures annexed to the states of husband and father, for, 
God knows, they have many peculiar cares. I cannot describe to 
you the anxious, sleepless hours these ties frequently give me. I 
see a train of helpless little folks ; me and my exertions all their 
stay ; and on what a brittle thread does the life of man hang ! If I 
am nipt off at the command of fate, even in all the vigour of man- 
hood, as I am — such things happen every day — Gracious God ! what 
would become of my little flock ? 'Tis here that I envy your people 
of fortune. A father on his death-bed, taking an everlasting leave 
of his children, has indeed wo enough ; but the man of competent 
fortune leaves his sons and daughters independency and friends ; 

while I But I shall run distracted if I think any longer on the 

subject ! 

To leave talking of the matter so gravely, I shall sing with the old 
Scots ballad — 

O that I had ne'er been married, 

I would never had nae care ; 
Now I've gotten wife and bairns, 

They cry crowdie evermair. 

Crowdie ance, crowdie twice, 

Crowdie three times in a day ; 
An ye crowdie ony mair, 

Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away. 

2itfi December. 

We have had a brilliant theatre here this season ; only, as all other 
business does, it experiences a stagnation of trade from the epidemical 



MISS fontenelle's address. 179 

complaint of the country— want of cash. I mentioned our theatre 
merely to lug in an occasional Address, which I wrote for the benefit- 
night of one of the actresses, and which is as follows : — 



ADDRESS, 

SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE ON HER BENEFIT-NIGHT. 1 

Still anxious to secure your partial favour, 
And not less anxious, sure, this night, than ever, 
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter, 
'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better ; 
So sought a Poet, roosted near the skies, 
Told him I came to feast my curious eyeu ; 
Said, nothing like his works was ever printed ; 
And last, my Prologue-business slily hinted. 

* Ma'am, let me tell you,' quoth my man of rhymes, 

* I know your bent — these are no laughing times : 
Can you — but, Miss, I own I have my fears — 
Dissolve in pause and sentimental tears, 

With laden sighs, and solemn-rounded sentence ; 
Rouse from his sluggish slumbers fell Repentance ; 
Paint Vengeance as he takes his horrid stand, 
Waving on high the desolating brand, 
Calling the storms to bear him o'er a guilty land ? ' 

I could no more— askance the creature eyeing, 

D 'ye think, said I, this face was made for crying ? 

I'll laugh, that's poz — nay, more, the world shall know it; 

And so, your servant ! gloomy Master Poet ! 

Firm as my creed, Sirs, 'tis my fixed belief, 

That Misery's another word for Grief; 

I also think — so may I be a bride ! 

That so much laughter, so much life enjoyed. 

Thou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh, 
Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye ; 
Doomed to that sorest task of man alive — 
To make three guineas do the work of five : 
Laugh in Misfortune's face — the beldam witch ! 
Say, you'll be merry, though you can't be rich. 
Thou other man of care, the wretch in love, 
Who long with jiltish arts and airs hast strove; 
Who, as the boughs all temptingly project, 
Measur'st in desperate thought — a rope — thy neck— 
Or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the deep, 
Peerest to meditate the healing leap : 

1 December 4, 1795. 



180 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Wouldst thou be cured, thou silly, moping elf ! 
Laugh at her follies — laugh e'en at thyself : 
Learn to despise those frowns now so terrific, 
And love a kinder — that's your grand specific. 

To sum up all, be merry, I advise ; 

And as we're merry, may we still be wise. 

25th, Christmas morning. 

This, my much-loved friend, is a morning of wishes ; accept mine 
— so Heaven hear me as they are sincere ! — that blessings may 
attend your steps, and affliction know you not ! In the charming 
words of my favourite author, The Man of Feeling : ' May the Great 
Spirit bear up the weight of thy gray hairs, and blunt the arrow that 
brings them rest ! ' 

Now that I talk of authors, how do you like Cowper ? Is not the 
Task a glorious poem! The religion of the Task, bating a few 
scraps of Calvinistic divinity, is the religion of God and Nature — the 
religion that exalts, that ennobles man. Were not you to send me 
your Zeluco, in return for mine ? Tell me how you like my marks 
and notes through the book. I would not give a farthing for a book 
unless I were at liberty to blot it with my criticisms. 

I have lately collected, for a friend's perusal, all my letters; I 
mean those which I first sketched, in a rough draught, and after- 
wards wrote out fair. On looking over some old musty papers, 
which from time to time I had parcelled by, as trash that were 
scarce worth preserving, and which yet, at the same time, I did not 
care to destroy, I discovered many of these rude sketches, and have 
written, and am writing them out, in a bound MS. for my friend's 
library. As I wrote always to you the rhapsody of the moment, I 
cannot find a single scroll to you, except one, about the commence- 
ment of our acquaintance. If there were any possible conveyance, 
I would send you a perusal of my book. R. B. 

It was probably at the end of the year that the poet addressed 
a short unceremonious rhymed epistle to worthy Collector 
Mitchell, alluding to a want of ready money, which he desired 
his friend to remedy by the temporary advance of a guinea, and 
also speaking of his illness as leaving him with resolutions of 
more careful conduct in future. 



TO COLLECTOR MITCHELL. 

Friend of the Poet, tried and leal, 
Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal ; 
Alake, alake, the meikle deil 

Wi' a' his witches 
Are at it, skelpin' jig and reel, 

In my poor pouches ! 



THE SEDITION-BILL, 1795. 181 

I modestly fir* fain wad hint it, 

That one-pound-one, I sairly want it ; 

If wi' the hizzie down ye sent it, servant-girl 

It would be kind ; 
And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted, throbbed 

I'd bear't in mind. 

So may the auld year gang out moaning 
To see the new come laden, groaning, 
Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin 

To thee and thine : 
Domestic peace and comforts crowning 

The hale design. 

POSTSCRIPT. 

Ye've heard this while how I've been licket, 

And by fell death was nearly nicket ; 

Grim loon ! he got me by the fecket, waistcoat 

And sair me sheuk ; 
But by guid luck I lap a wicket, 

And turned a neuk. 

But by that health, I've got a share o't, 
And by that life, I'm promised mair o't, 
My hale and weel I'll tak a care o't, 

A tentier way ; 
Then farewell folly, hide and hair o 't, 

For ance and aye ! 

The present was a season of national distress, in consequence 
of a failure of the late harvest. Discontents, meetings, and 
mobbings alarmed the ministry, and towards the close of the 
year, it was conceived that some additional restrictions upon 
the expression of public sentiment were necessary ; hence the 
celebrated sedition-bill of that period. The broken remains of 
the Whig party were greatly exasperated by the measure, and 
amongst the various expressions of adverse sentiment in Scotland, 
none attracted more attention than a public meeting which took 
place at the Circus — now Adelphi Theatre — in Edinburgh, where 
the Honourable Henry Erskine, Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, 
presided. The Tory majority of the Scottish bar, seeing their 
chief thus engaged, as they said, in ' agitating the giddy and 
ignorant multitude, and cherishing such humours and dispositions 
as directly tend to overturn the laws, 1 resolved, at the approaching 
annual election to the deanship, to oppose Mr Erskine's reappoint- 
ment. It was a most painful step for them to take, Erskine being 
a favourite with all parties and classes of men ; but they felt that 
private feelings must yield to the sense of public duty. Through- 
out the whole of December, a war raged upon the subject in the 



182 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

newspapers, and the ' Parliament House' had never known a more 
agitating crisis. At length, on the 12th of January 1796, the 
election took place, when Mr Dundas, the Lord Advocate, was 
preferred to honest Harry by a majority of 123 against 38 
votes. The degraded dean was himself deeply mortified by the 
event. In the vexation of the moment, he went that night to his 
door, and hewed off from it with a coal-axe the brass-plate which 
expressed his forfeited dignity. 1 The liberals throughout the 
country read the news with a bitterness beyond all common 
measure. It seemed to them as if every virtue under heaven was 
now to be as nothing, wanting the accompaniment of what they 
called subservient political professions. It was not likely that 
Burns would hear of the degradation of his friend and ancient 
patron with tranquil feelings, or remain quite silent on the occa- 
sion. He privately circulated the following effusion referring to 
the contest : — 

THE DEAN OF FACULTY, 

A BALLAD. 

Dire was the hate at old Harlaw, 

That Scot to Scot did carry; 
And dire the discord Langside saw, 

For beauteous hapless Mary : 
But Scot with Scot ne'er met so hot, 

Or were more in fury seen, Sir, 
Than 'twixt Hal and Bob for the famous job— 

"Who should be Faculty's Dean, Sir. 

This Hal for genius, wit, and lore, 

Among the first was numbered ; 
But pious Bob, 'mid learning's store, 

Commandment tenth remembered. 
Yet simple Bob the victory got, 

And won his heart's desire ; 
Which shews that Heaven can boil the pot, 

Though the devil in the fire. 

Squire Hal besides had in this case 

Pretensions rather brassy, 
For talents to deserve a place 

Are qualifications saucy ; 
So their worships of the Faculty, 

Quite sick of merit's rudeness, 
Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see, 

To their gratis grace and goodness. 

* This fact is stated on the authority of the late Mr James Bertram, brewer 
Edinburgh, who was Mr Erskine's clerk at the time. 



FATAL ILLNESS OF THE POET. 183 

As once on Pisgah purged was the sight 

Of a son of Circumcision, 
So may be, on this Pisgah height, 

Bob's purblind, mental vision : 
Nay, Bobby's mouth may be opened yet, 

Till for eloquence you hail him, 
And swear he has the Angel met 

That met the Ass of Balaam. 

In your heretic sins may you live and die, 

Ye heretic Eight-and- Thirty, 
But accept, ye sublime majority, 

My congratulations hearty. 
With your Honours and a certain King 

In your servants this is striking, 
The more incapacity they bring, 

The more they're to your liking. 

It is not impossible — our bard being not quite an angel — that 
he might recall to mind on this occasion that ' Bob ' had taken no 
sort of notice of a certain elegy which had been written in 1787 
on the death of his father the Lord President. 

It is perhaps just worthy of being remarked in addition, that 
this was one occasion when the two greatest of Scotland's modern 
great men might be said to meet in the struggle of public life — 
for, while Burns stood thus by Harry Erskine, the name of Walter 
Scott is found in the ranks of those who opposed and voted 
against him. It would have been pleasant to add, that young 
Francis Jeffrey had made an appearance on the occasion ; but it 
appears that, while strongly inclined to vote with the minority, he 
was induced by a regard for the wishes of his father to remain 
neutral. 1 

Early in the month of January, when his health was in the 
course of improvement, Burns tarried to a late hour at a jovial 
party in the Globe Tavern. Before returning home, he unluckily 
remained for some time in the open air, and, overpowered by the 
effects of the liquor he had drunk, fell asleep. In these circum- 
stances, and in the peculiar condition to which a severe medicine 
had reduced his constitution, a fatal chill penetrated to his bones ; 
he reached home with the seeds of a rheumatic fever already in 
possession of his weakened frame. In this little accident, and 
not in the pressure of poverty or disrepute, or wounded feelings 
or a broken heart, truly lay the determining cause of the sadly 
shortened days of our great national poet. Dr Currie states, that 

1 Cockburn's Life of Lord Jeffrey. 



184 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

the new illness confined him for about a week ; and this was 
probably true, although some expressions of the bard himself 
would indicate a longer period of extreme illness. 



TO MRS RIDDEL. 

Dumfries, 20th January 1796. 

I cannot express my gratitude to you for allowing me a longer 
perusal of Anacharsis. In fact, I never met with a book that 
bewitched me so much ; and I, as a member of the library, must 
warmly feel the obligation you have laid us under. Indeed, to me 
the obligation is stronger than to any other individual of our society ; 
as Anacharsis is an indispensable desideratum to a son of the Muses. 

The health you wished me in your morning's card is, I think, 
flown from me for ever. I have not been able to leave my bed to- 
day till about an hour ago. These wickedly unlucky advertisements 
I lent (I did wrong) to a friend, and I am ill able to go in quest of 
him. 

The Muses have not quite forsaken me. The following detached 
stanzas I intend to interweave in some disastrous tale of a 
shepherd. K. B. 

On the 28th, Burns was sufficiently well to attend the Mason 
Lodge, and recommend for entry as an apprentice Mr James 
Georgeson, a Liverpool merchant. Next day, he sent Mr Peter 
Hill his annual kipper, or dried salmon, with a brief but apparently 
cheerful letter, imposing on his friend the condition, ' that you do 
not, like a fool, as you were last year, put yourself to five times the 
value in expense of a return;' sending, moreover, compliments to 
various friends, and promising a longer letter in ten days, but in 
the meantime saying not a word of illness. 1 It would have been 
puzzling to find him, two days later, writing in the following 
doleful terms to Mrs Dunlop, if we had not already had ample 
opportunities of knowing how light and transient were all the 
feelings of Burns, three days of suffering being as liable to appear 
to him as a long season of wo, as a few hours of merriment were 
to make him forget that any misfortune lay at his door : — 



TO MRS DUNLOP. 

Dumfries, 31st January 1796. 
These many months you have been two packets in my debt — 
what sin of ignorance I have committed against so highly valued 
a friend, I am utterly at a loss to guess. Alas ! madam, ill can I 

1 Volume of Burns's letters to Mr Peter Hill, in possession of Wilson, Esq., 

Dalmarnock. 



TO COLONEL DE PEYSTER. 185 

afford, at this time, to be deprived of any of the small remnant 
of my pleasures. I have lately drunk deep of the cup of affliction. 
The autumn robbed me of my only daughter and darling child, and 
that at a distance, too, and so rapidly, as to put it out of my power 
to pay the last duties to her. I had scarcely begun to recover from 
that shock, when I became myself the victim of a most severe 
rheumatic fever, and long the die spun doubtful; until, after many 
weeks of a sick-bed, it seems to have turned up life, and I am 
beginning to crawl across my room, and once indeed have been 
before my own door in the street. 

"When pleasure fascinates the mental sight, 

Affliction purifies the visual ray, 
Religion hails the drear, the untried night, 

And shuts, for ever shuts ! life's doubtful day. 

R.B. 

About this time, he met one day in the street Mrs Haugh, who 
had been his neighbour when he resided in the Wee Vennel. 
They had some serious conversation about his health, and she 
afterwards remembered one remarkable expression which he used : 
1 1 find,' said he, ' that a man may live like a fool, but he will 
scarcely die like one.' 

His commander had sent to make some kind inquiries about 
his health, and he replied in rhyme : 



TO COLONEL DE PEYSTER. 

My honoured colonel, deep I feel 
Your interest in. the poet's weal : 
Ah ! now sma' heart hae I to speel 

The steep Parnassus, 
Surrounded thus by bolus pill, 

And potion glasses. 

O what a canty warld were it, 

Would pain and care and sickness spare it ; 

And fortune favour worth and merit, 

As they deserve ! 
And aye a rowth roast beef and claret ; plenty 

Syne, wha wad starve ? 

Dame Life, though fiction out may trick her, 

And in paste gems and frippery deck her ; 

Oh ! flickering, feeble, and unsicker uncert»ta 

I've found her still 
Aye wavering like the willow-wicker, 

'Twcen good and ill. 



186 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan, 
Watches like baudrons by a rattan, 
Our sinfu' saul to get a claut on 

Wi' felon ire ; 
Syne, whip ! his tail ye '11 ne'er cast saut on — 

He's aff like fire. 



the cat 
clutch 



Ah Nick ! ah Nick ! it is na fair, 
First shewing us the tempting ware, 
Bright wines and bonnie lasses rare, 

To put us daft; 
Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare 

0' hell's damned waft. 

Poor man, the flee, aft bizzes by, 
And aft, as chance he comes thee nigh, 
Thy auld damned elbow yeuks wi' joy, 

And hellish pleasure ; 
Already in thy fancy's eye, 

Thy sicker treasure ! 

Soon, heels -o'er-gowdie ! in he gangs, 
And like a sheep-head on a tangs, 
Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs 

And murdering wrestle, 
As, dangling in the wind, he hangs 

A gibbet's tassel. 

But lest you think I am uncivil, 

To plague you with this draunting drivel, 

Abjuring a' intentions evil, 

I quat my pen : 
The Lord preserve us frae the devil ! 

Amen ! Amen ! l 



itches 



certain 
heels-overhead 



1 Colonel Arentz Scliulyer de Peyster died at Dumfries in November 1822, at 
the age, it was believed, of ninety-six or ninety-seven years. He had held the 
royal commission for about eighty years. In early life, he commanded at 
Detroit, Michilimackinac, and other parts of Upper Canada, during the seven 
years' war, when he distinguished himself by detaching the Indians from the 
service of the French. To pursue an obituary notice in the Dumfries Courier : ' The 
deceased also served in various other parts of North America under his uncle, 
Colonel Schulyer ; and after being promoted to the rank of colonel, and com- 
manding for many years the 8th Regiment, he retired to Dumfries, the native town 
of ]VIrs De Peyster, the faithful follower of his fortunes in every situation— in camp 
and in quarters — amidst savage tribes and polished communities — in the most 
distant stations of Upper Canada, as well as in walled and garrisoned cities. Indeed, 
we may here state, without the slightest qualification, that there never was a more 
venerable and tenderly-attached pair. For more than fifty years, they shared the 
same bed, without having been separated in any one instance ; and altogether, the 
gallant old colonel's bearing to his faithful and long-cherished spouse, resembled 
more what we ween of the age of chivalry, than the altered, and, as we suspect, 
not improved manners of the present times. 

* At the stormy period of the French Revolution, the zeal and talents of our 



INCREASING ILLNESS OF BURNS. 187 

Dr Currie, who must have been generally well informed respect- 
ing Burns's illness, says : ' His appetite now began to fail ; his 
hand shook, and his voice faltered on any exertion or emotion. 
His pulse became weaker and more rapid, and pain in the larger 
joints, and in the hands and feet, deprived him of the enjoyment 
of refreshing sleep. Too much dejected in his spirits, and too 
well aware of his real situation to entertain hopes of recovery, he 
was ever musing on the approaching desolation of his family, and 
his spirits sank into a uniform gloom.' 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

O Robby Burns, are ye sleeping yet 1 
Or are ye wauking, I would wit ? 



5th Feb. 1796. 



The pause you have made, my dear sir, is awful ! Am I never to 
hear from you again ? I know and I lament how much you have 
been afflicted of late ; but I trust that returning health and spirits 
will now enable you to resume the pen, and delight us with your 
musings. I have still about a dozen Scotch and Irish airs that I 
■wish 'married to immortal verse.' We have several true-born 
Irishmen on the Scottish list; but they are now naturalised, and 
reckoned our own good subjects. Indeed, we have none better. I 
believe I before told you, that I have been much urged by some friends 
to publish a collection of all our favourite airs and songs in octavo, 
embellished with a number of etchings by our ingenious friend Allan : 
what is your opinion of this ? 

townsman were again called into exercise, in the embodying and training of 
the 1st Regiment of Dumfries Volunteers. On this occasion, his military ardour 
completely revived ; and so successfully did he labour in his vocation, that in the 
course of a very few months, his associates in arms displayed nearly all the steadi- 
ness and precision of a regiment of the line. Of this corps, the author of Tarn 
o' Shanter was an original member ; and we have even heard it whispered, that the 
private and field-officer (the latter of whom had a great fondness for literature, and 
a ready talent at versification) engaged, unknown to each other, in a poetical 
controversy, which was conducted with considerable spirit through the respectable 
medium of the Dumfries Journal. Many members of the regiment still survive ; 
and to mark their regard for the memory of the deceased, the officers resumed the 
habiliments so long laid aside, while a party of the privates carried his body to the 
grave, supported by the staff of the Dumfriesshire militia. 

' In his person, Colonel De Peyster was tall, soldier-like, and commanding ; in his 
manners, easy, affable, and open; in his affections, warm, generous, and sincere ; in 
his principles, and particularly his political principles, firm even to inflexibility. 
No man, we believe, ever possessed more of the principle of vitality. Old age, 
Which bad silvered his hair, and furrowed his cheeks, appeared to make no impres- 
sion on bis inner man; and those who knew him best declare that, up to the 
period of bis last illness, bis mind appeared as active, and his intellects as vigorous 
as they were fifty years ago. When the weather permitted, he still took his accus- 
tomed exercise, and walked round the billiard - table, or bestrode his gigantic 
charger, apparently with as little difficulty as a man of middle age. When so 
mounted, we have often fancied we beheld in him the last connecting link betwixt 
the old and new schools of military men.' 



188 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

February 1796. 
Many thanks, my dear sir, for your handsome, elegant present to 
Mrs Burns, and for my remaining volume of P. Pindar. Peter is a 
delightful fellow, and a first favourite of mine. 1 I am much pleased 
with your idea of publishing a collection of our songs in octavo with 
etchings. I am extremely willing to lend every assistance in my 
power. The Irish airs I shall cheerfully undertake the task of 
finding verses for. 

1 have already, you know, equipt three with words, and the other 
day I strung up a kind of rhapsody to another Hibernian melody 
which I admire much. 

HEY FOR A LASS Wl' A TOCHER. 

Ttote — Balinamona or a. 

Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms, 
The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms : 
O gie me the lass that has acres o' charms, 
gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms. 

CHORUS. 

Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher, then hey for a lass wi' a 

tocher ; 
Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher — the nice yellow guineas 

for me. 

Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows, 
And withers the faster, the faster it grows : 
But the rapturous charm o' the bonnie green knowes, 
Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonnie white yowes. 

And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, 
The brightest o' beauty may cloy, when possest ; 
But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest, 
The langer ye hae them, the mair they 're carest. 

If this will do, you have now four of my Irish engagement. In 
my by-past songs I dislike one thing ; the name Chloris — I meant it 
as the fictitious name of a certain lady : but, on second thoughts, 
it is a high incongruity to have a Greek appellation to a Scottish 
pastoral ballad. Of this, and some things else, in my next : I have 
more amendments to propose. What you once mentioned of ' flaxen 
locks' is just : they cannot enter into an elegant description of beauty. 
Of this also again — God bless you ! 2 

J In the original letter, the poet here adverts to some business matters, and 
allows some angry feelings regarding the Riddels to escape him. 

2 Our poet never explained what name he would have substituted for Chloris.—* 
Mr Thomson. 



CRAVES RETURN OP SOME LENT MONEY. 189 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Your Hey for a lass wi' a Tocher is a most excellent song, and 
with you the subject is something new indeed. It is the first time 
I have seen you debasing the god of soft desire into an amateur 
of acres and guineas. 

I am happy to find you approve of my proposed octavo edition. 
Allan has designed and etched about twenty plates, and I am to have 
my choice of them for that work. Independently of the Hogarthian 
humour with which they abound, they exhibit the character and 
costume of the Scottish peasantry with inimitable felicity. In this 
respect, he himself says, they will far exceed the aquatinta plates 
he did for the Gentle Shepherd, because in the etching he sees 
clearly what he is doing, but not so with the aquatinta, which he 
could not manage to his mind. 

The Dutch boors of Ostade are scarcely more characteristic and 
natural than the Scottish figures in those etchings. 

Some years before, Burns had taken a kindly zealous interest 
in behalf of Mr James Clarke, a schoolmaster at Moffat, whom he 
believed to be a worthy man, suffering under an unrighteous per- 
secution. 1 He had lent Clarke some money, apparently not an 
inconsiderable sum — an interesting addition to the instances in 
which we have seen him in the unexpected relation of a creditor 
and accommodator. The debt had probably lain for years un- 
noticed by Burns, although money was never abundant with him, 
and a few debts of his own hung over his head. Now, when his 
salary was reduced, when the staple food of the country was so 
dear as to keep the humbler classes almost in a state of insurrec- 
tion, and medical expenses were added to his ordinary outlay, 
Burns was obliged to address his old friend, with a request for 
repayment either in whole or in part. Mr Clarke, who was now 
prospering as a teacher at Forfar, answered on the 18th February, 
and his letter reveals by reflection the condition of the poor bard's 
affairs, as well as the kind feelings with which he had inspired 
the writer. 

My dear Friend — Your letter makes me very unhappy, the 
more so, as I had heard very flattering accounts of your situation 
some months ago. A note [20s.] is enclosed; and if such partial 
payments will be acceptable, this shall soon be followed by more. 
My appointment here has more than answered my expectations ; 
but furnishing a large house, &c. has kept me still very poor ; and 
the persecution I suffered from that rascal, Lord II , brought me 

1 See vol. iii., pp. 185, 218. 



190 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

into expenses which, with all my economy, I have not yet rubbed 
off. Be so kind as write me. Your disinterested friendship has 
made an impression which time cannot efface. Believe me, my 
dear Burns, yours in sincerity, James Clarke. 1 



Miss Grace Aiken, a very young lady, the daughter of Burns's 
early patron, Mr Kobert Aiken of Ayr, had occasion during spring 
to pass through Dumfries, on her way to pay a visit in Liverpool. 
In walking along the street towards the residence of her friend, 
Mrs Copland, she passed a tall, slovenly-looking man, of sickly 
aspect, who presently uttered an exclamation which caused her to 
turn about to see who it was. It was Burns; but so changed from 
his former self, that she could hardly have recognised him, except 
for the sound of his voice in addressing her. On her asking him 
playfully, if he had been going to pass her without notice, he 
spoke as if he had felt that it was proper for him, now-a-days, to 
leave his old friends to be the first to hold forth the hand of 
friendship. At her pressing request, he accompanied her to the 
house of Mrs Copland; he even yielded, but not till after much 
entreaty, to go home and put himself in order, that he might 
return at four to dinner. He spent the evening cheerfully 
in their temperate society, and retired about midnight. The 
circumstance is worthy of notice, because neither Mrs Copland 
nor any of her friends — all members of the best society in Dum- 
fries — had any objection to entertaining or meeting Burns. The 
hostess had not seen him for a considerable time, but from no 
cause affecting the reputation of the poet — only, she understood 
that he had of late shewn a preference for what might positively 
as well as comparatively be called low society — a circumstance 
she greatly lamented. All this shews that Burns's social discredit 
in his latter days must have been the result of no universal 
feeling among his fellow-citizens. The fact seems to be, that 
while many condemned and forsook him — the provincial clergy 
to a man — on the other hand, many, sensible that his faults 
were rather allied to imprudence and indecorum than to turpi- 
tude, regarded him with forbearance, if not with undiminished 
esteem and affection. 

The state of Burns's health on the 14th of April, was such as 
to allow him to be present at a meeting of the Mason Lodge tha. 
evening. On this occasion, Captain Adam Gordon, brother oi 
his friend Mr Gordon of Kenmure, was admitted apprentice. It 
is not unlikely that, both on this occasion and on the 28th ot 

1 The original of this letter is in possession of Robert Cole, Esq., Upper 
Ncrton Place, London. 



REDUCTION OF SALARY. 191 

January, Burns made an effort, if not a sacrifice, for the honour 
of persons whom he regarded as friends. 1 

' It was hoped by some of his friends,' says Dr Currie, ' that if 
he could live through the months of spring, the succeeding season 
might restore him. But they were disappointed.' The month of 
May came in with more than its poetical beauty and geniality; 2 
but it only could charm the poet's feeling, it could infuse no new 
vigour into his languid frame. The summer wind blew unrefresh- 
ing for him. Being now entirely laid aside from duty, Burns 
understood that, as usual in such cases, his salary would be 
reduced ; and this, we may well believe, was no small addition to 
the distresses he suffered. Dr Currie informs us, that the Board, 
to their honour, continued his full emoluments; but it appears 
that this resolution was not taken, or at least not intimated, while 
the poor poet was capable of being comforted by the intelligence. 
It is certain that the duty, necessary, we presume, for keeping 
up the reduced pay, was all the time performed out of kind- 
ness for Burns by a young expectant of Excise named Stobie; to 
whom, therefore, in reality, the gratitude of those who love the 
memory of the bard must be considered as chiefly due. Dr 
Currie also states, that ' Mr Graham of Fintry, hearing of the 
poet's illness, though unacquainted with its dangerous nature, 
made an offer of his assistance towards procuring him the means 
of preserving his health.' The letter containing this offer was 

1 The following memoranda from the record of the Lodge may be perused with 
some interest. They refer to all the meetings which took place during the period 
of Burns's connection with the Lodge. 

27th Dec. 1791.— Burns present. 

6th Feb. 1792.— Burns present. On this occasion, Philip Ditcher, Esq., of 3d regt. 
of Dragoons, now quartered in Dumfries, is entered apprentice. 

lAlh May, 1792. — Burns present. Chas. Pye, Captains "Waller, Watson, and 
Parslow, of 3d regt. of Dragoons, all admitted as apprentices. 

31st May 1792.— Burns present. 

5th June 1792.— Burns present. Ed. Andrews of the Dragoons, and John Syme, 
Esq. of Barncailzie, admitted brethren, without fees. 

22<2 Nov. 1792. — Burns present; 

3(Hh Nov. 1792.— Burns present, and elected senior warden. 

30th Nov. 1793. — The senior warden [Burns] present. Sam. Clark, Junr., admitted 
a member. 

27th Dec. 1793.— Burns not present. [He was at thie time indisposed.] 

6th May 1794.— Burns not mentioned. D. M'Culloch admitted a member. 

29th Nov. 1794.— Burns present. 

30fA Nov. 1795. — Burns not mentioned. 

2Hlh Dec. 1795.— Burns not mentioned. 

28th Jan. 1796.— Burns present. Appeared Mr James Georgeson, mercht. ii 
Liverpool, who being recommended by Brother Burns, was admitted apprentico 
His fees applied towards defraying the expenses of the night. 

14//i April 1796.— Burns present. Capt. Adam Gordon admitted apprentice. 

16th April 1796.— Burns not mentioned. 

- ' It is the finest weather in the world. The whole country is covered with green 
and blossoms; and the sun shines perpetually through a light east wind, which 
would have brought you here from Boston since it began to blow.'— Jeffrey, to his 
brother, 20th May 1796. Cockbicrn's Life of Lord Jeffrey. 



192 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

dated on the 15th July, so that the poet could not have received 
it more than a couple of days before consciousness left him. 1 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

April 1796. 
Alas ! my dear Thomson, I fear it will be some time ere I tune 
my lyre again! 'By Babel streams I have sat and wept' almost ever 
since I wrote you last : I have only known existence by the pressure 
of the heavy hand of sickness, and have counted time by the reper- 
cussions of pain! Rheumatism, cold, and fever, have formed to 
me a terrible combination. I close my eyes in misery, and open 
them without hope. I look on the vernal day, and say with poor 
Fergusson — 

' Say wherefore has an all-indulgent Heaven 
Light to the comfortless and wretched given ? ' 

This will be delivered to you by a Mrs Hyslop, landlady of the 
Globe Tavern here, which for these many years has been my howff, 2 
and where our friend Clarke and I have had many a merry squeeze. 
I mention this, because she will be a very proper hand to bring that 
seal you talk of. I am highly delighted with Mr Allan's etchings. 
Wod'd an? married an' a', is admirable ! The grouping is beyond all 
praise. The expression of the figures, conformable to the story in 
the ballad, is absolutely faultless perfection. I next admire Turnim- 
spike. "What I like least is Jenny said to Jochy. Besides the female 
being in her appearance quite a virago, if you take her stooping into 
the account, she is at least two inches taller than her lover. Poor 
Cleghorn! I sincerely sympathise with him. Happy I am to think 
that he yet has a well-grounded hope of health and enjoyment in 
this world. As for me— but that is a damning subject ! Farewell! 

R.B. 

1 'Another charge of cruelty has been brought forward against the Board — that of 
refusing his full salary during his illness, which a little explanation will set to rights. 
A few years previous to this period, an addition of L.15 per annum had been made 
to the salaries, accompanied with the condition of being stopped to officers not 
doing duty. This still existed hi Burns' s time, and he was no worse treated than 
others in. similar circumstances of indisposition. It is here incumbent on me to 
mention, that Commissioner Graham, regretting, I have no doubt, his inability to 
comply with the poet's wishes as to the full salary, sent him a private donation 
of L.5, which, I believe, nearly or totally compensated the loss.' — Findlater, in 
Glasgow Courier, March 1834. 

2 A place of resort much frequented by any person is, in Scotland, called his 
hou-ff. 

The windows of that common room in the Globe Tavern, which might be more 
particularly called Burns's Howff, still bear some scribblings in his handwriting. 



SONGS ON JESSY LEWARS. 193 



MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

4th May 1796. 

I need not tell you, my good sir, what concern the receipt of your 
last gave me, and how much I sympathise in your sufferings. But 
do not, I beseech you, give yourself up to despondency, or speak the 
language of despair. The vigour of your constitution, I trust, will 
soon set you on your feet again ; and then, it is to be hoped, you will 
see the wisdom and the necessity of taking due care of a life so 
valuable to your family, to your friends, and to the world. 

Trusting that your next will bring agreeable accounts of your 
convalescence and returning good spirits, I remain, with sincere 
regard, yours. 

P.S. — Mrs Hyslop, I doubt not, delivered the gold seal to you in 
good condition. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

[About May 17, 1796.] 
My dear Sir — I once mentioned to you an air which I have long 
admired — Here 's a health to them that 's awa, hiney, but I forget if 
you took any notice of it. I have just been trying to suit it with 
verses, and I beg leave to recommend the air to your attention once 
more. I have only begun it. 

JESSY. 



Here's a health to ane I loe dear! 

Here's a health to ane I loe dear! 

Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, 

And soft as their parting tear — Jessy! 

Although thou maun never be mine, 

Although even hope is denied : 
'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, 

Than aught in the world beside — Jessy ! 

I mourn through the gay, gaudy day, 
As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms ; 

But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber, 
For then I am lock't in thy arms — Jessy! 

I guess by the dear angel smile, 
I guess by the love-rolling ce; 
But why urge the tender confession, 
'Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree — Jessy I 
VOL. IV. 1 



194 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

This will be delivered by a Mr Lewars, a young fellow of uncom- 
mon merit ; indeed by far the cleverest fellow I have met with in this 
part of the world. His only fault is D-m-cratic heresy. As he will 
be a day or two in town, you will have leisure, if you choose, to 
write me by him ; and if you have a spare half hour to spend with 
him, I shall place your kindness to my account. I have no copies 
of the songs I have sent you, and I have taken a fancy to review 
them all, and possibly may mend some of them : so, when you have 
complete leisure, I will thank you for either the originals or copies. 
I had rather be the author of five well- written songs than of ten 
otherwise. My verses to Cauld Kail I will suppress ; as also those 
to Laddie lie near me. They are neither worthy of my name nor 
of your book. I have great hopes that the genial influence of the 
approaching summer will set me to rights, but as yet I cannot boast 
of returning health. I have now reason to believe that. my com- 
plaint is a flying gout — a sad business ! 

Do let me know how Cleghorn is, and remember me to him. 

This should have been delivered to you a month ago, but my 
friend's trunk miscarried, and was not recovered till he came here 
again. 1 I am still very poorly, but should like much to hear from 
you. 

Jessy, the heroine of the song above cited, was a sister of 
Lewars, an amiable young woman, who acted the part of a minis- 
tering angel in his house during the whole of this dismal period 
of distress. It is curious to find him even in his present 
melancholy circumstances, imagining himself as the lover of his 
wife's kind-hearted young friend, as if the position of the 
mistress were the most exalted in which his fancy could place 
any woman he admired or towards whom he felt gratitude. 

This is not, however, the only strain of fancied love which 
Burns addressed to Jessy Lewars. The lady relates that, one 
morning she had a call from the poet, when he offered, if she 
would play him any tune of which she was fond, and for which 
she desired new verses, to gratify her in her wish to the best of 
his ability. She placed herself at the pianoforte, and played over 
several times the air of an old song beginning with the words — 

The robin cam to the wren's nest, 

And keekit in, and keekit in : 
O weel's me on your auld pow! 

Wad ye be in, wad ye be in? 
Ye 'se ne'er get leave to lie without, 

And I within, and I within, 
As lang's I hae an auld clout, 

To row ye in, to row ye in. 2 

1 The letter appears to have been despatched by post on the 17th June. Curria 
unaccountably divides the letter into two. 

2 This set of the old song is from Johnson's Museum, v. 419. 



KIHKCUDBRIGHT ELECTION, 1796. 195 

As soon as his ear got accustomed to the melody, Burns sat 
down, and in a very few minutes he produced the beautiful song : 

OH, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST. 

Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast 

On yonder lea, on yonder lea, 
My plaidie to the angry airt, 

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee : 
Or did misfortune's bitter storms 

Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, 
Thy bield should be my bosom, protection 

To share it a', to share it a'. 

Or were I in the wildest waste, 

Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, 
The desert were a paradise, 

If thou wert there, if thou wert there : 
Or were I monarch o' the globe, 

Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, 
The brightest jewel in my crown 

Wad be my queen, wad be my queen. 

The anecdote is a trivial one in itself; but we feel that the 
circumstances — the deadly illness of the poet, the beneficent 
worth of Miss Lewars, and the reasons for his grateful desire of 
obliging her — give it a value. It is curious, and something more, 
to connect it with the subsequent musical fate of the song, for 
many years after, when Burns had become a star in memory's 
galaxy, and Jessy Lewars was spending her quiet years of widow- 
hood over her book or her knitting in a little parlour in Maxwell- 
town, the verses attracted the regard of Felix Mendelssohn, who 
seems to have divined the peculiar feeling beyond all common 
love which Burns breathed through them. By that admirable 
artist, so like our great bard in a too early death, they were 
married to an air of exquisite pathos, ' such as the meeting soul 
may pierce.' Burns, Jessy Lewars, Felix Mendelssohn — genius, 
goodness, and tragic melancholy, all combined in one solemn and 
profoundly affecting association ! 

Parliament being dissolved in May, there arose a new contest 
for the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright. Mr Heron was opposed on 
this occasion by the Hon. Montgomery Stewart, a younger son of 
the Earl of Galloway. Burns, reduced in health as he was — con- 
fined, indeed, to a sick-chamber — could not remain an unconcerned 
onlooker. He produced a ballad at once more allegorical and 
more bitter against Mr Heron's opponents than any launched on 
the former occasion. There is a set of vagrant traffickers in 



196 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



Scotland, somewhat superior to pedlers, and called Troggers. 
They deal in clothes and miscellaneous articles, and their wares 
are recognised under the general name of Troggin. Burns con- 
ceived a trogger, with the characters of the Galloway party for a 
stock. 

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG. 
Tu>-e— Buy Broom Besoms. 

"Wha will buy my troggin, 

Fine election ware ; 
Broken trade o' Broughton, 
A' in high repair. 

Buy braw troggin, 

Frae the banks o' Dee ; 
"Wha wants troggin 
Let him come to me. 

There 's a noble earl's 

Fame and high renown, 1 
For an auld sang — 

It 's thought the gudes were stown. 
Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Here 's the worth o' Broughton, 2 

In a needle's ee ; 
Here 's a reputation 

Tint by Balmaghie. 3 

Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Here ? s its stuff and lining, 

Cardoness's head ; 4 
Fine for a sodger, 

A' the wale o' lead. 

Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Here 's a little wadset, 

Buittle's scrap o' truth, 5 
Pawned in a gin-shop, 

Quenching holy drouth. 
Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Here 's an honest conscience 

Might a prince adorn ; 
Frae the downs o' Tinwald — 

So was never worn. 6 

Buy braw troggin, &c. 



choice 



mortgage 



1 The Earl of Galloway. 
8 Air Murray of Broughton. 
8 Gordon of Balmaghie. 



4 Gordon of Cardoness. 

5 Rev. George Maxwell, minister of Buittle. 

6 A bitter allusion to Mr Bushby. 



ELECTION BALLAD. 197 

Here's armorial bearings, 

Frae the manse o' Urr ; 
The crest, a sour crab-apple, 

Eotten at the core. 1 

Buy braw troggin, kc. 

Here is Satan's picture, 

Like a bizzard gled, kite 

Pouncing poor Eedcastle, 2 

Sprawl in' as a taed. toad 

Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Here's the font where Douglas 

Stane and mortar names ; 
Lately used at C 

Christening M[urray's] crimes. 
Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Here's the worth and wisdom 

Collieston can boast; 3 
By a thievish midge gnat 

They had been nearly lost. 
Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Here is Murray's fragments 

0' the ten commands; 
Gifted by black Jock,-* 

7 To get them aff his hands. 
, &c. 

Saw ye e'er sic troggin? 
If to buy ye 're slack, 
Hornie's turnin' chapman — the Devil 

He'll buy a' the pack. 
Buy braw troggin 

Frae the banks o' Dee; 
Wha wants troggin 
Let him come to me. 

It gives a new idea of Burns, that he should have been able to 
put such a keen edge upon his satiric weapon, and wield it with 
such power, within a few weeks of his death. 

Mr Heron was also successful in this contest, an event which 
did not happen till the poor bard had been laid in the dust. The 
election being subjected to the judgment of a committee, Mr Heron 
was unseated. He died on his way down to Scotland. Allan 

1 This appears to have been the retaliation for the epigram launched by the 
Kev. Mr Muirhead against Burns after the election of last year. 
8 Walter Sloan Lawrie of Redcastle. 3 Copland of Collieston. 4 John Bushby. 



198 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Cunningham says : ' It was one of the dreams of his day — in 
which Burns indulged — that, by some miraculous movement, the 
Tory councillors of the king would be dismissed, and the Whigs, 
with the Prince of Wales at their head, rule and reign in their 
stead. That Heron aided in strengthening this " devout imagina- 
tion" is certain : but then the Laird of Kerroughtree was the 
victim of the delusion himself.' 

Dr Currie says: ' The sense of his poverty, and of the approach- 
ing distress of his infant family, pressed heavily on Burns as he 
lay on the bed of death; yet he alluded to his indigence, at 
times, with something approaching to his wonted gaiety. " What 
business," said he to Dr Maxwell, who attended him with the 
utmost zeal, " has a physician to waste his time on me? I am a 
poor pigeon not worth plucking. Alas ! I have not feathers 
en ough upon me to carry me to my grave." ' In even a gayer spirit, 
he would sometimes scribble verses of compliment to sweet young 
Jessy Lewars, as she tripped about on her missions of gentle 
charity from hall to kitchen and from kitchen to hall. His 
surgeon, Mr Brown, one day brought in a long sheet, containing 
the particulars of a menagerie of wild beasts which he had just 
been visiting. As Mr Brown was handing the sheet to Miss 
Lewars, Burns seized it, and wrote upon it a couple of verses 
with red chalk ; after which he handed it to Miss Lewars, 
saying that it was now fit to be presented to a lady. She still 
possesses the sheet. 

Talk not to me of savages 

From Afric's burning sun ; 
No savage e'er could rend my heart, 

As, Jessy, thou hast done. 
But Jessy's lovely hand in mine, 

A mutual faith to plight, 
Not even to view the heavenly choir 

Would be so blest a sight. 

On another occasion, while Miss Lewars was waiting upon him 
in his sick-chamber, he took up a crystal goblet containing wine 
and water, and after writing upon it the following verses, in the 
character of a Toast, presented it to her: — 

Fill me Avith the rosy wine, 
Call a toast — a toast divine ; 
Give the poet's darling flame, 
Lovely Jessy be the name ; 
Then thou mayest freely boast 
Thou hast given a peerless toast. 



EPIGRAMS ON MISS LEWARS. 199 

At this time of trouble, on Miss Lewars complaining of indis- 
position, he said, to provide for the worst, he would write hei 
epitaph. He accordingly inscribed the following on another 
goblet, saying: ' That will be a companion to the Toast:" 1 — 

Say, sages, what's the charm on earth 

Can turn Death's dart aside ? 
It is not purity and worth, 

Else Jessy had not died. 

On Miss Lewars recovering a little, the poet said : ' There is a 
poetic reason for it,' and wrote the following: — 

But rarely seen since Nature's birth, 

The natives of the sky ; 
Yet still one seraph's left on earth, 

For Jessy did not die. 1 

Then he would also jest about her admirers, and speculate on 
her matrimonial destiny. ' There's Bob Spalding, 1 he would say; 
' he has not as much brains as a midge could lean its elbow on: 
he wont do.' And so on with the rest, generally ending with the 
declaration that, ' being a poet, he was also a prophet — for 
anciently they were the same thing — and he could therefore fore- 
tell that James Thomson would be the man'— a prediction which 
time fulfilled. 

At the approach of the 4th of June, Mrs Walter Eiddel, to 
whom he had become in some measure reconciled, desired him to 
go to the Birthday Assembly, to shew his loyalty, and at the 
same time asked him for a copy of a song he had lately written. 
He answered as follows : — 



TO MRS RIDDEL. 

Dumfries, 4th June 1796. 
I am in such miserable health, as to be utterly incapable of shew- 
ing my loyalty in any way. Racked as I am with rheumatisms, I 
meet every face with a greeting, like that of Balak to Balaam : 
' Come, curse me, Jacob ; and come, defy me, Israel ! ' So say I : 
Come, curse me that east wind ; and come, defy me the north ! 
Would you have me in such circumstances copy you out a love- 
song? 

1 This most excellent woman, whose memory must be for ever endeared, not 
only to the descendants of Burns, but to all his countrymen, is still living (1852) in 
Dumfries, the widow of the late Mr James Thomson, solicitor. 



200 LIFE AND WOEKS OF BURNS. 

I may perhaps see you on Saturday, but I will not be at the ball. 
Why should I? — ' man delights not me, nor woman either!' Can 
you supply me with the song, Let us all be unhappy together ? — do, if 
you can, and oblige lepauvre misirable, R. B. 

The progress of the unhappy poet's disease, and the gradual 
setting of his hopes of life, are best shewn in the letters he wrote 
at this time. What immediately follows was addressed to his 
worthy friend the schoolmaster of Forfar, whom we have seen 
writing to Burns in February, with a small instalment towards 
the payment of a debt due to him. It is a letter of some import- 
ance, from the light which it throws upon the bard's present 
circumstances. He had requested money from Clarke in February; 
a small sum to account had been promptly sent, and he now 
asked for a further instalment. Such a fact at once shews the 
straits to which he was reduced by his illness and the reduction 
of his salary, and how little was required to help him through the 
difficulty. 

TO MR JAMES CLARKE, 

SCHOOLMASTER, FORFAR. 

Dumfries, 26ta June 1796. 

My dear Clarke— Still, still the victim of affliction ! Were you 
to see the emaciated figure who now holds the pen to you, you 
would not know your old friend. Whether I shall ever get about 
again, is only known to Him, the Great Unknown, whose creature 
I am. Alas, Clarke ! I begin to fear the worst. As to my indivi- 
dual self, I am tranquil, and would despise myself if I were not ; 
but Burns's poor widow, and half-a-dozen of his dear little ones — 
helpless orphans ! — there I am weak as a woman's tear. 1 Enough 
of this ! 'Tis half of my disease. 

I duly received your last, enclosing the note. 2 It came extremely 
in time, and I am much obliged by your punctuality. Again I must 
request you to do me the same kindness. Be so very good as, by 
return of post, to " enclose me another note. I trust you can 
do it without inconvenience, and it will seriously oblige me. If 
I must go, I shall leave a few friends behind me, whom I shall 
regret while consciousness remains. I know I shall live in their 
remembrance. Adieu, dear Clarke. That I shall ever see you 
again is, I am afraid, highly improbable. R. B. 

1 ' But I am weaker than a woman's tear.' — Trolhis and Cressida. 

2 Pound-notes are so nrach the current money of Scotland, that the term a note 
is constantly used to signify twenty shillings. 



EEMOVED TO BROW FOE SEA-BATHING. 201 



TO ME, JAMES JOHNSON, EDINBURGH. 

Dumfries, Ath July 1796. 

How are you, my dear friend, and how comes on your fifth volume ? 
You may probably think that for some time past I have neglected 
you and your work ; but, alas ! the hand of pain, and sorrow, and 
care, has these many months lain heavy on me. Personal and 
domestic affliction have almost entirely banished that alacrity and 
life with which I used to woo the rural Muse of Scotia. 

You are a good, worthy, honest fellow, and have a good right to 
live in this world — because you deserve it. Many a merry meeting 
this publication has given us, and possibly it may give us more, 
though, alas! I fear it. This protracting, slow, consuming illness 
which hangs over me, will, I doubt much, my ever- dear friend, 
arrest my sun before he has well reached his middle career, and 
will turn over the poet to far more important concerns than studying 
the brilliancy of wit or the pathos of sentiment. However, hope is 
the cordial of the human heart, and I endeavour to cherish it as 
well as I can. 

Let me hear from you as soon as convenient. Your work is a 
great one ; and now that it is finished, I see, if we were to begin 
again, two or three things that might be mended ; yet I will venture 
to prophesy, that to future ages your publication will be the text- 
book and standard of Scottish song and music. 

I am ashamed to ask another favour of you, because you have 
been so very good already ; but my wife has a very particular friend 
of hers, a young lady who sings well, to whom she wishes to present 
the Scots Musical Museum. If you have a spare copy, will you be so 
obliging as to send it by the very first Jty } as I am anxious to have it 
soon % 1 Yours ever, R. B. 

On the day of the date of this letter, Burns was removed to 
Brow, a sea-bathing hamlet on the Solway, in the hope of improve- 
ment from bathing, country quarters, and riding. 



TO ME GEORGE THOMSON. 

Brow, ith July. 
My dear Sir — I received your songs ; but my health is so pre- 
carious, nay, dangerously situated, that as a last effort I am here 
at sea-bathing quarters. Besides my inveterate rheumatism, my 
appetite is quite gone, and I am so emaciated as to be scarce 
able to support myself on my own legs. Alas ! is this a time 

* In this humble and delicate manner did poor Burns ask for a copy of a work of 
which he was principally the founder, and to which he had contributed, gratuitously, 
not less than 184 original, altered, and collected songs! The editor has seen 180 
transcribed by his own hand for the Museum. — Cromj:k, 



202 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

for me to woo the Muses ? However, I am still anxiously willing 
to serve your work, and, if possible, shall try. I would not like to 
see another employed, unless you could lay your hand upon a 
poet whose productions would be equal to the rest. You will 
see my remarks and alterations on the margin of each song. My 
address is still Dumfries. Farewell, and God bless you ! 

K. Burns. 

The handwriting of the above is smaller and less steady than 
the other letters — like the writing of one who, in the interval, had 
become an old man. 

Mrs Walter Riddel, being likewise in poor health, was now living 
at a place not far from the village, and hearing of Burns's arrival, 
she invited him to dinner, and sent her carriage to bring him to 
her house, for he was unable to walk. ' I was struck,' says this 
lady in a confidential letter to a friend written soon after, l with 
his appearance on entering the room. The stamp of death was 
imprinted on his features. He seemed already touching the brink 
of eternity. His first salutation was : " Well, madam, have you 
any commands for the other world ? " I replied, that it seemed 
a doubtful case which of us should be there soonest, and that I 
hoped he would yet live to write my epitaph. He looked in my 
face with an air of great kindness, and expressed his concern at 
seeing me look so ill, with his accustomed sensibility. At table, 
he ate little or nothing, and he complained of having entirely lost 
the tone of his stomach. We had a long and serious conversa- 
tion about his present situation, and the approaching termination 
of all his earthly prospects. He spoke of his death without any 
of the ostentation of philosophy, but with firmness as well as 
feeling, as an event likely to happen, very soon, and which gave 
him concern chiefly from leaving his four children so young and 
unprotected, and his wife in so interesting a situation— in hourly 
expectation of lying in of a fifth. He mentioned, with seeming 
pride and satisfaction, the promising genius of his eldest son, and 
the flattering marks of approbation he had received from his 
teachers, and dwelt particularly on his hopes of that boy's future 
conduct and merit. His anxiety for his family seemed to hang 
heavy upon him, and the more perhaps from the reflection, that 
he had not done them all the justice he was so well qualified to 
do. Passing from this subject, he shewed great concern about the 
care of his literary fame, and particularly the publication of his 
posthumous works. He said he was well aware that his death 
would occasion some noise, and that every scrap of his writing would 
be revived against him to the injury of his future reputation: that 
letters and verses written with unguarded and improper freedom, 
and which he earnestly wished to have buried in oblivion, would 



LAST INTERVIEW WITH MRS RIDDEL. 203 

be handed about by idle vanity or malevolence, when no dread of 
his resentment would restrain them, or prevent the censures of 
shrill-tongued malice, or the insidious sarcasms of envy, from 
pouring forth all their venom to blast his fame. 

' He lamented that he had written many epigrams on persons 
against whom he entertained no enmity, and whose characters he 
should be sorry to wound ; and many indifferent poetical pieces, 
which he feared would now, with all their imperfections on their 
head, be thrust upon the world. On this account, he deeply 
regretted having deferred to put his papers in a state of arrange- 
ment, as he was now quite incapable of the exertion. 1 The lady 
goes on to mention many other topics of a private nature on which 
he spoke. ' The conversation,' she adds, ' was kept up with great 
evenness and animation on his side. I had seldom seen his mind 
greater or more collected. There was frequently a considerable 
degree of vivacity in his sallies, and they would probably have had 
a greater share, had not the concern and dejection I could not 
disguise damped the spirit of pleasantry he seemed not unwilling 
to indulge. 

' We parted about sunset on the evening of that day (the 5th 
of July 1796) : the next day I saw him again, and we parted to 
meet no more !' 



TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 

Brow, Sea-bathing Quarters, 1th July 1796. 
My dear Cunningham — I received yours here this moment, and 
am indeed highly nattered with the approbation of the literary circle 
you mention — a literary circle inferior to norfe in the two kingdoms. 
Alas ! my friend, I fear the voice of the bard will soon be heard 
among you no more. For these eight or ten months, I have been 
ailing, sometimes bedfast, and sometimes not; but these last three 
months I have been tortured with an excruciating rheumatism, 
which has reduced me to nearly the last stage. You actually would 
not know me if you saw me. Pale, emaciated, and so feeble as 
occasionally to need help from my chair — my spirits fled ! fled ! — 
but I can no more on the subject; only the medical folks tell me that; 
my last and only chance is bathing, and country quarters, and riding. 
The deuce of the matter is this : when an exciseman is off duty, his 
salary is reduced to L.35 instead of L.50. What way, in the name of 
thrift, shall I maintain myself, and keep a horse in country quarters, 
with a wife and five children at home, on L.35 ? I mention this, 
because I had intended to beg your utmost interest, and that of all the 
friends you can muster, to move our commissioners of Excise to grant 
me the full salary; I daresay you know them all personally. If 



204 LIFE AND WOKKS OF BURNS. 

they do not grant it me, I must lay my account with an exit truly en 
poete — if I die not of disease, I must perish with hunger. 

I have sent you one of the songs ; the other my memory does not 
serve me with, and I have no copy here ; but I shall be at home 
soon, when I will send it you. Apropos to being at home : Mrs 
Burns threatens in a week or two to add one more to my paternal 
charge, which, if of the right gender, I intend shall be introduced to 
the world by the respectable designation of Alexander Cunningham 
Burns. My last was James Glencairn, so you can have no objection 
to the company of nobility. Farewell ! R. B. 



TO MR GILBERT BURNS. 

[Sundaij], 10th July 1796. 
Dear Brother — It will be no very pleasing news to you to be 
told that I am dangerously ill, and not likely to get better. An 
inveterate rheumatism has reduced me to such a state of debility, 
and my appetite is so totally gone, that I can scarcely stand on my 
legs. I have been a week at sea-bathing, and I will continue there, 
or in a friend's house in the country, all the summer. God keep 
my wife and children ; if I am taken from their head, they will be 
poor indeed. I have contracted one or two serious debts, partly 
from my illness these many months, partly from too much thought- 
lessness as to expense when I came to town, that will cut in too 
much on the little I leave them in your hands. Remember me to 
my mother. Yours, R. B. 

For several months, Mrs Dunlop had maintained an obstinate 
silence towards Burns, notwithstanding his having frequently 
addressed her. The cause has not been explained, but may be 
surmised. The unfortunate poet now wrote to her for the last 
time. 

TO MRS DUNLOP. 

Brow, 12th July 1796. 
Madam — I have written you so often, without receiving any 
answer, that I would not trouble you again, but for the circumstances 
in which I am. An illness which has long hung about me, in all 
probability will speedily send me beyond that bourn whence no 
traveller returns. Your friendship, with which for many years you 
honoured me, was a friendship dearest to my soul. Your conversa- 
tion, and especially your correspondence, were at once highly 
entertaining and instructive. With what pleasure did I use to 
break up the seal ! The remembrance yet adds one pulse more to 
my poor palpitating heart. Farewell ! ! ! R. B. 



DUNNING LETTER FROM A CREDITOR. 205 

Dr Currie states, that Burns had the pleasure of receiving an 
explanation of Mrs Dunlop's silence, and an assurance of the con- 
tinuance of her friendship to his widow and children; but though 
her friendly attentions to the latter are undoubted, it was Mrs 
Burns's constant assertion, that there must have been a mistake 
as to her husband having received an explanation of Mrs Dunlop's 
silence in any form. 

After a few days, sea-bathing seemed to have in some degree 
eased the pains of our bard, so that he once more began to 
entertain hopes of life. At this crisis, a sad stroke fell upon 
him, in the form of a letter from a Dumfries solicitor, urging 
payment of a bill, now ascertained to have amounted to L.7, 4s., 
due, or overdue, to a draper for his volunteer uniform. It was 
generally believed of this tradesman by his contemporaries, that 
he would never have harassed the poor poet for the debt ; indeed, 
it has been represented, that Mr Williamson (for such was his 
name) 1 had placed this and some other overdue accounts in the 
solicitor's hands, merely because it seemed the most convenient 
mode of collecting them; and it is the report of Burns's eldest 
son, that the letter addressed by Mr Matthew Penn to Burns, 
did not contain any threatening expressions. In Scotland, how- 
ever, a letter from a writer is generally regarded as a menacing 
step on the part of a creditor; and so did it appear on the present 
Occasion to Burns, whose mind was too gloomy and excitable to 
take calm views on any such matter. Struck with terror lest the 
worst extremities should be proceeded to, he bethought him of 
two friends who might be appealed to for the means of averting 
so dire a calamity. 

TO MR JAMES BURNES, 

WRITER, MONTROSE. 

Dumfries, 12th July. 
My dear Cousin — When you offered me money assistance, little 
did I think I should want it so soon. A rascal of a haberdasher, to 
whom I owe a considerable bill, taking it into his head that I am 
dying, has commenced a process against me, and will infallibly put 
my emaciated body into jail. Will you be so good as to accommodate 
me, and that by return of post, with ten pounds? Oh, James! did 
you know the pride of my heart, you would feel doubly for me ! 
Alas! I am not used to beg. The worst of it is, my health was 
coming about finely. You know, and my physician assured me, that 

1 Burns had been a debtor to Williamson on previous occasions, and does not 
appear to have been prompt in his payments. In March 1794, Messrs Brown and 
Williamson, clothiers, announced to Burns that they were dissolving their copart- 
nery, and collecting the debts due to it. They enclosed an account for a balance 
of L.7, 9s., due by him since the beginning of the preceding year. 



206 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

melancholy and low spirits are half my disease — guess, then, my 
horrors since this business began. If I had it settled, I would be, 
I think, quite well in a manner. How shall I use the language 
to you — oh, do not disappoint me ! but strong necessity's curst 
command. 

I have been thinking over and over my brother's affairs, and I 
fear I must cut him up ; but on this I will correspond at another 
time, particularly as I shall [require] your advice. 

Forgive me for once more mentioning by return of post — save me 
from the horrors of a jail! 

My compliments to my friend James, 1 and to all the rest. I do 
not know what I have written. The subject is so horrible, I dare 
not look it over a°:ain. Farewell ! R. B. 



BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

Brow, on the Solway Frith, \2th July 1796. 
After all my boasted independence, curst necessity compels me 
to implore you for five pounds. A cruel scoundrel of a haber- 
dasher, to whom I owe an account, taking it into his head that I am 
dying, has commenced a process, and will infallibly put me into jail. 
Do, for God's sake, send me that sum, and that by return of post. 
Forgive me this earnestness; but the horrors of a jail have made 
me half distracted. I do not ask all this gratuitously; for, upon 
returning health, I hereby promise and engage to furnish you with 
five pounds' worth of the neatest song-genius you have seen. I 
tried my hand on JRothermirchie this morning. The measure is so 
difficult, that it is impossible to infuse much genius into the lines; 
they are on the other side. Forgive, forgive me ! 

To think of Burns composing love -verses in these circum- 
stances ! It was to happy days spent on the banks of the Devon 
during the short blaze of his fame, and to Charlotte Hamilton 
and her youthful loveliness, that his mind reverted at this gloomy 
time. 

FAIREST MAID ON DEVON BANKS. 
TraE— Rothemurchie. 



Fairest maid on Devon banks, 

Crystal Devon, winding Devon, 
Wilt thou lay that frown aside, 

And smile as thou wert wont to do ? 

1 The son of Mr Burnes, now a youth of sixteen. This respectable man, thtf 
father of Sir Alexander Burnes, died in spring 1852. 



MONEY SENT BY MR THOMSON. 207 

Full well thou know'st I love thee dear, 
Couldst thou to malice lend an ear? 
Oh, did not love exclaim : ' Forbear, 
Nor use a faithful lover so ! ' 

Then come, thou fairest of the fair, 
Those wonted smiles, oh, let me share! 
And by thy beauteous self I swear, 

No love but thine my heart shall know. 

Mr Burnes, who was not a rich man, but possessed, like his 
illustrious relative, of a liberal heart, immediately sent the sum 
asked. Mr Thomson, who was in circumstances not greatly 
superior to those of Burns himself, but who also possessed a 
liberal nature, had been ruminating on the illness of the poet, and 
asking himself if, at such a time, a fresh present of five pounds 
was not likely to be taken more kindly than that which he had 
sent three years before. Between two such enthusiasts, in their 
respective domestic circumstances, such a donation did not truly 
bear the air of meanness which some writers have since attributed 
to it. At all events, it was what Mr Thomson had it in his power 
to give, and he sent it with all his usual cordiality. 

MR THOMSON TO BURNS. 

Uth July 1796. 

My dear Sir — Ever since I received your melancholy letters by 
Mrs Hyslop, I have been ruminating in what manner I could endea- 
vour to alleviate your sufferings. Again and again I thought of a 
pecuniary offer, but the recollection of one of your letters on this 
subject, and the fear of offending your independent spirit, checked 
my resolution. I thank you heartily, therefore, for the frankness 
of your letter of the 12th, and with great pleasure enclose a draft 
for the very sum I proposed sending. Would I were Chancellor of 
the Exchequer but for one day, for your sake ! 

Pray, my good sir, is it not possible for you to muster a volume of 
poetry? If too much trouble to you, in the present state of your 
health, some literary friend might be found here, who would select 
and arrange from your manuscripts, and take upon him the task of 
editor. In the meantime, it could be advertised to be published by 
subscription. Do not shun this mode of obtaining the value of your 
labour: remember, Pope published the Iliad by subscription. Think 
of this, my dear Burns, and do not reckon me intrusive with my 
advice. You are too well convinced of the respect and friendship 
I bear you, to impute anything I say to an unworthy motive. Yours 
faithfully. 

The verses to BothemurcJde will answer finely. I am happy to 
see you can still tune your lyre. 



208 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

A kind-hearted friend, Mr Gracie, banker in Dumfries, sent to 
inquire after the poet's health, and to offer his carriage to bring 
him back to his home. 

TO JAMES GRACIE, ESQ. 

Brow, Wednesday morning [\3th July.'] 
My dear Sir — It would [be] doing high injustice to this place 
not to acknowledge that my rheumatisms have derived great benefits 
from it already; but, alas! my loss of appetite still continues. I 
shall not need your kind offer this week, and I return to town the 
beginning of next week, it not being a tide-week. I am detaining 
a man in a burning hurry. So, God bless you ! R. B. 

The delicate condition of Mrs Burns had of course prevented 
her from accompanying her husband to Brow. He addressed her 
thus, apparently on the 14th: 

TO MRS BURNS. 

Brow, Thursday. 
My dearest Love — I delayed writing until I could tell you what 
effect sea-bathing was likely to produce. It would be injustice to 
deny that it has eased my pains, and I think has strengthened me ; 
but my appetite is still extremely bad. No flesh nor fish can I 
swallow; porridge and milk are the only thing I can taste. I am 
very happy to hear, by Miss Jess Lewars, that you are all well. My 
very best and kindest compliments to her, and to all the children. 
I will see you on Sunday. Your affectionate husband, E. B. 

Mr M'Diarmid of Dumfries communicated to Mr Lockhart an 
anecdote of Burns referable to this time. ' Bousseau, we all know, 
when dying, wished to be carried into the open air, that he might 
obtain a parting look of the glorious orb of day. A night or two 
before Burns left Brow, he drank tea with Mrs Craig, widow of 
the minister of Ruthwell. His altered appearance excited much 
silent sympathy; and the evening being beautiful, and the sun 
shining brightly through the casement, Miss Craig — now Mrs 
Henry Duncan 1 — was afraid the light might be too much for him, 
and rose with the view of letting down the window-blinds. Burns 
immediately guessed what she meant ; and, regarding the young 
lady with a look of great benignity, said: " Thank you, my dear, 
for your kind attention; but oh, let him shine: he will not shine 
long for me!"' 

] Mrs Duncan was the wife of the late highly estimable Dr Duncan, minister of 
Ruthwell, the originator of savings-banks, and the first describer of reptilian 
footsteps on the surfaces of ancient strata. 



DEATH OF THE POET. 209 

Before leaving Brow, Burns experienced a new attack of fever. 
According to Allan Cunningham, who was living in Dumfries at 
the time, the poet ' returned on the 18th, in a small spring -cart. 
The ascent to his house was steep, and the cart stopped at the 
foot of the Mill-hole-brae : when he alighted, he shook much, and 
stood with difficulty; he seemed unable to stand upright. He 
stooped as if in pain, and walked tottering towards his own door : 
his looks were hollow and ghastly, and those who saw him then 
expected never to see him in life again.' Dr Currie, who probably 
had exact information regarding the case from Maxwell, says: 
' At this time a tremor pervaded his frame ; his tongue was 
parched, and his mind sank into delirium when not roused by 
conversation.' 

On returning to his home, he wrote what is supposed to be 
the last letter or composition of any kind penned by him. It 
was addressed to his father-in-law, and related to an expected 
domestic event which helped in no small degree to deepen the 
tragic character of the hour. 

TO MR JAMES ARMOUR, MAUCHLINE. 

Dumfries, 18th July 1796. 

My dear Sir — Do, for Heaven's sake, send Mrs Armour here 
immediately. My wife is hourly expecting to be put to bed. Good 
God ! what a situation for her to be in, poor girl, 1 without a friend ! 
I returned from sea-bathing quarters to-day, and my medical friends 
would almost persuade me that I am better ; but I think and feel 
that my strength is so gone, that the disorder will prove fatal to me. 
Your son-in-law, K. B. 

The life of Burns was now to be measured by hours rather than 
days. To secure the quietness demanded at such a time, his four 
little boys were sent to the house of Mr Lewars. Jessy hovered 
by his couch with her usual assiduity. Findlater came occasion- 
ally to soothe the last moments of his friend. Early in the morn- 
ing of the 21st, Burns had sunk into delirium, and it became 
evident that nature was well-nigh exhausted. The children were 
then sent for to see their parent for the last time in life. They 
stood round the bed, while calmly and gradually he sank into his 
last repose. The eldest son retained a distinct recollection of the 
scene, and has reported the sad fact, that the last words of the 
bard were a muttered execration against the legal agent by whose 
letter, wittingly or unwittingly, the parting days of Burns had 
been imbittered. 

i Mrs Burns was not yet thirty years of age. 



210 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Though much of the conduct and conversation of Burns was 
matter of disapprobation with a portion of society in his own 
district, his death caused a general feeling of regret throughout 
Dumfries and its neighbourhood. By high and low, his genius 
had been admired. Many knew well the generous character of 
the man. All deplored the premature extinction of a spirit 
which, but a few years before, had shone out upon society with so 
bright a promise. They also sympathised with the young widow 
and her helpless children, now left without any provision for the 
future. In the general public, although the death of Burns was 
communicated through an authoritative channel in a manner 
disrespectful to his memory, 1 the same sentiments of regret and 
sympathy prevailed. The nation seemed to feel at its heart a 
pang of self-accusation for not having better appreciated and 
done more to foster a genius so extraordinary. It felt, and felt 
truly, that many a year might pass ere another equal to him 
should arise. 

The funeral of Burns is well described by Dr Currie. ' The 
Gentlemen Volunteers of Dumfries determined to bury their 
illustrious associate with military honours, and every preparation 
was made to render this last service solemn and impressive. The 
Fencible Infantry of Angusshire, and the regiment of cavalry of 
the Cinque Forts, at that time quartered in Dumfries, 2 offered 
their assistance on this occasion ; the principal inhabitants of the 
town and neighbourhood determined to walk in the funeral pro- 
cession; and a vast concourse of persons assembled, some of them 
from a considerable distance, to witness the obsequies of the 

1 The newspaper notice here adverted to must have been the production of some 
injudicious friend. ' On the 21st inst., died at Dumfries, after a lingering illness, 
the celebrated Robert Burns. His poetical compositions, distinguished equally by 
the force of native humour, by the warmth and the tenderness of passion, and by 
the glowing touches of a descriptive pencil — will remain a lasting monument of the 
vigour and versatility of a mind guided only by the Lights of Nature and the 
Inspirations of Genius. The public, to whose amusement he has so largely contri- 
buted, will hear with regret, that his extraordinary endowments were accompanied 
with frailties which rendered them useless to himself and his family. The last 
moments of his short life were spent in sickness and indigence ; and his widow, 
with five infant children, and in hourly expectation of a sixth, is now left without 
any resource but what she may hope from the regard due to the memory of her 
husband. 

' The public are respectfully informed, that contributions for the wife and family 
of the late Robert Burns, who are left in circumstances of extreme distress, will be 
received at the houses of Sir William Forbes & Co., of Messrs Mansfield, Ramsay, 
& Co., and at the shops of the Edinburgh booksellers. 

' As it is proposed to publish, some time hence, a posthumous volume of the 
poetical remains of Robert Burns, for the benefit of the author's family, his friends 
and acquaintances are requested to transmit such poems and letters as happen to 
be in their possession to Alexander Cunningham, writer. George's Street, Edin- 
burgh; or to John Syme, Esq., of Ryedale, Dumfries.'— Edin. Advertiser, July 26. 

2 The Cinque Ports Cavalry had arrived in Dumfries only a few days before the 
death of Burns. Among the junior officers was the Hon. Mr Jenkinson, afterwards 
Earl of Liverpool and prime minister of England. 



FUNERAL OF THE POET. 211 

Scottish bard. On the evening of the 25th of July, the remains 
of Burns were removed from his house to the Town Hall, and 
the funeral took place on the succeeding day. 1 A party of the 
Volunteers, selected to perform the military duty in the church- 
yard, stationed themselves in the front of the procession, with 
their arms reversed; the main body of the corps surrounded and 
supported the coffin, on which were placed the hat and sword of 
their friend and fellow-soldier; the numerous body of attendants 
ranged themselves in the rear; while the Fencible regiments of 
infantry and cavalry lined the streets from the Town Hall to the 
burial-ground in the southern church-yard, a distance of more 
than half a mile. The whole procession moved forward to that 
sublime and affecting strain of music, the Dead March in Saul; 
and three volleys fired over his grave marked the return of Burns 
to his parent earth ! The spectacle was in a high degree grand 
and solemn, and accorded with the general sentiments of sympathy 
and sorrow which the occasion had called forth.' 

Dr Currie adds : ' It was an affecting circumstance, that on the 
morning of the day of her husband's funeral, Mrs Burns was 
undergoing the pains of labour, and that, during the solemn service 
we have just been describing, the posthumous son of our poet was 
born.' This child was named Maxwell, in honour of Dr Maxwell, 
the physician who had attended Burns on his death-bed. He 
died in infancy. 

As Dr Currie's description of Burns was composed under 
advantages which no subsequent writer can enjoy, and is an 
elegant piece of writing, I am induced to transfer it to these 
pages. 

' Burns was nearly five feet ten inches in height, and of a form 
that indicated agility as well as strength. His well-raised forehead, 
shaded with black curling hair, indicated extensive capacity. His 
eyes were large, dark, full of ardour and intelligence. His face was 
well formed ; and his countenance uncommonly interesting and 
expressive. His mode of dressing, which was often slovenly, and 
a certain fulness and bend in his shoulders, characteristic of his 
original profession, disguised in some degree the natural symmetry 
and elegance of his form. The external appearance of Burns was 
most strikingly indicative of the character of his mind. On a first 
view, his physiognomy had a certain air of coarseness, mingled, 
however, with an expression of deep penetration, and of calm 
thoughtfuhiess, approaching to melancholy. There appeared in his 

1 The Edinburgh Advertiser of Friday the 20th contains a paragraph, dated 
'Dumfries, 2(ith .July,' which says that 'the remains of Burns were interred on 
Monday, with military honours and every suitahlo respect.' Monday was the 25th, 
and this undoubtedly was the day of the funeral. 



212 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

first manner and address, perfect ease and self-possession, but a 
stern and almost supercilious elevation, not, indeed, incompatible 
with openness and affability, which, however, bespoke a mind 
conscious of superior talents. Strangers that supposed themselves 
approaching an Ayrshire peasant who could make rhymes, and to 
whom their notice was an honour, found themselves speedily 
overawed by the presence of a man who bore himself with dignity, 
and who possessed a singular power of correcting forwardness and 
of repelling intrusion. 1 But though jealous of the respect due to 
himself, Burns never enforced it where he saw it was willingly 
paid; and though inaccessible to the approaches of pride, he was 
open to every advance of kindness and of benevolence. His dark 
and haughty countenance easily relaxed into a look of good-will, 
of pity, or of tenderness; and as the various emotions succeeded 
each other in his mind, assumed with equal ease the expression 
of the broadest humour, of the most extravagant mirth, of the 
deepest melancholy, or of the most sublime emotion. The tones 
of his voice happily corresponded with the expression of his 
features, and with the feelings of his mind. When to these 
endowments are added a rapid and distinct apprehension, a most 
powerful understanding, and a happy command of language — of 
strength as well as brilliancy of expression — we shall be able to 
account for the extraordinary attractions of his conversation — 
for the sorcery which, in his social parties, he seemed to exert on 
all around him. In the company of women, this sorcery was 
more especially apparent. Their presence charmed the fiend of 
melancholy in his bosom, and awoke his happiest feelings; it 
excited the powers of his fancy, as well as the tenderness of his 
heart; and by restraining the vehemence and the exuberance of 
his language, at times gave to his manners the impression of 
taste, and even of elegance, which in the company of men they 
seldom possessed. This influence was doubtless reciprocal. A 
Scottish lady accustomed to the best society, declared with 
characteristic naivete, that no man's conversation ever carried her 

1 ' During his residence in Glasgow, a characteristic instance occurred of the way 
in which he would repress petulance and presumption. A yotmg man of some 
literary pretensions, who had newly commenced business as a bookseller, had been 
in the practice of writing notices of Burns's poems in a style so flippant, and withal 
so patronising, as to excite feelings in the poet towards him very different from 
what he counted upon. Reckoning, however, upon a very grateful reception from 
Burns, he was particularly anxious for an early introduction to his company ; and, 
as his friends knew, had been at some pains to prepare himself for making a 
dazzling impression upon the Ayrshire ploughman, as it was then the fashion, 
amongst a certain kind of literary folks, to call the poet. At the moment the 
introduction took place, Burns was engaged in one of his happiest and most play- 
ful veins with my friend and another intimate or two; but upon the gentleman's 
presentation, who advanced in a manner sufficiently affable, the "ploughman" 
assumed an air of such dignified coldness, as froze him into complete silence during 
the time he remained in his company.'— Correspondent of the Scotsman, 1828. 



MRS RIDDEL'S SKETCH OP BURNS. 213 

so completely off her feet, as that of Burns; 1 and an English lady, 
familiarly acquainted with several of the most distinguished 
characters of the present times, assured the editor, that in the 
happiest of his social hours, there was a charm about Burns which 
she had never seen equalled. 2 This charm arose not more from 
the power than the versatility of his genius. No languor could 
be felt in the society of a man who passed at pleasure from 
grave to gay, from the ludicrous to the pathetic, from the simple 
to the sublime ; who wielded all his faculties with equal strength 
and ease, and never failed to impress the offspring of his fancy 
with the stamp of his understanding. 

' This, indeed, is to represent Burns in his happiest phasis. In 
large and mixed parties, he was often silent and dark, sometimes 
fierce and overbearing; he was jealous of the proud man's scorn, 
jealous to an extreme of the insolence of wealth, and prone to 
avenge, even on its innocent possessor, the partiality of fortune. 
By nature, kind, brave, sincere, and in a singular degree com- 
passionate, he was on the other hand proud, irascible, and vin- 
dictive. His virtues and his failings had their origin in the 
extraordinary sensibility of his mind, and equally partook of the 
chills and glows of sentiment. His friendships were liable to 
interruption from jealousy or disgust, and his enmities died away 
under the influence of pity or self-accusation. His understanding 
was equal to the other powers of his mind, and his deliberate 
opinions were singularly candid and just; but, like other men of 
great and irregular genius, the opinions which he delivered in 
conversation were often the offspring of temporary feelings, 
and widely different from the calm decisions of his judgment. 
This was not merely true respecting the characters of others, 
but in regard to some of the most important points of human 
speculation.' 

Little more than a fortnight after the death of Burns, Mrs 
Walter Riddel presented anonymously in the Dumfries Journal 
a view of his personal qualities, designed to counteract the effects 
of the misrepresentation and calumny which had already begun to 
circulate regarding him. The notice is even more creditable to 
the heart than to the intellect of the lady, for, before writing it, 
she had to forgive all those unhappy lampoons which, under 
temporary irritation, Burns had launched against her and her 
husband. We must consider the whole conduct of this lady 
respecting Burns as a solid testimony in his favour. He had 
sinned against her, as against much that was more sacred than 



1 It has been stated that this lady was Jane, Duchess of Gordon. 

2 Mrs Walter Riddel is here meant. 



214 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

she; but she, nevertheless, acknowledged his many merits and 
excellences, and found in him no offences which a pure mind 
might not regard with leniency. The late Mr Alexander Smellie, 
son of the rough old naturalist already introduced to the reader, 
had visited Mrs Riddel a few months before Burns's death, when 
he found her talking of him in terms of opprobrium, only perhaps 
too well justified by his conduct towards herself. He revisited 
her immediately after the death of the poet, and found that all 
offence had been lost in admiration and regret. Attended by her 
young friend, the enthusiastic lady went that night at a late hour 
to St Michael's Church-yard, and planted laurels over the poet's 
new-made grave. 

Mrs Riddel opens with an assertion which must have been 
startling to the public of that day, who had not yet learned to 
contemplate Burns as anything beyond a prodigy of versifying 
power. She says : ' The fact is, that poetry (I appeal to all who 
have had the advantage of being personally acquainted with him) 
was actually not his forte. Many others, perhaps, may have 
ascended to prouder heights in the region of Parnassus, but none 
certainly ever outshone Burns in the charms, the sorcery, I would 
almost call it, of fascinating conversation, the spontaneous 
eloquence of social argument, or the unstudied poignancy of 
brilliant repartee ; nor was any man, I believe, ever gifted with a 
larger portion of the vivida vis animi. His personal endowments 
were perfectly correspondent to the qualifications of his mind — 
his form was manly — his action, energy itself — devoid in a great 
measure perhaps of those graces, of that polish, acquired only in 
the refinement of societies where in early life he could have no 
opportunities of mixing; but where, such was the irresistible 
power of attraction that encircled him, though his appearance and 
manners were always peculiar, he never failed to delight and to 
excel. His figure seemed to bear testimony to his earlier desti- 
nation and employments. It seemed rather moulded by nature 
for the rough exercises of agriculture, than the gentler cultivation 
of the belles-lettres. His features were stamped with the hardy 
character of independence, and the firmness of conscious, though 
not arrogant, pre-eminence ; the animated expressions of coun- 
tenance were almost peculiar to himself; the rapid lightnings of 
his eye were always the harbingers of some flash of genius, 
whether they darted the fiery glances of insulted and indignant 
superiority, or beamed with the impassioned sentiment of fervent 
and impetuous affections. His voice alone could improve upon the 
magic of his eye : sonorous, replete with the finest modulations, 
it alternately captivated the ear with the melody of poetic 
numbers, the perspicuity of nervous reasoning, or the ardent 



MRS RIDDEL'S SKETCH OF BURNS. 215 

sallies of enthusiastic patriotism. The keenness of satire was, I 
am almost at a loss whether to say his forte or his foible; for 
though nature had endowed him with a portion of the most 
pointed excellence in that dangerous talent, he suffered it too 
often to be the vehicle of personal, and sometimes unfounded, 
animosities. It was not always that sportiveness of humour, that 
" unwary pleasantry," which Sterne has depicted with touches so 
conciliatory, but the darts of ridicule were frequently directed as 
the caprice of the instant suggested, or as the altercations of 
parties and of persons happened to kindle the restlessness of his 
spirit into interest or aversion. This, however, was not invari- 
ably the case ; his wit (which is no unusual matter indeed) had 
always the start of his judgment, and would lead him to the 
indulgence of raillery uniformly acute, but often unaccompanied 
with the least desire to wound. The suppression of an arch and 
full-pointed bon-mot, from a dread of offending its object, the sage 
of Zurich very properly classes as a virtue only to be sought for in 
the calendar of 'saints ; if so, Burns must not be too severely dealt 
with for being rather deficient in it. He paid for his mischievous 
wit as dearly as any one could do. " 'Twas no extravagant 
arithmetic," to say of him, as was said of Yorick, that " for every 
ten jokes he got a hundred enemies ;" but much allowance will be 
made by a candid mind for the splenetic warmth of a spirit whom 
11 distress had spited with the world," and which, unbounded in 
its intellectual sallies and pursuits, continually experienced the 
curbs imposed by the waywardness of his fortune. The vivacity 
of his wishes and temper was indeed checked by almost habitual 
disappointments, which sat heavy on a heart that acknowledged 
the ruling passion of independence, without having ever been 
placed beyond the grasp of penury. His soul was never languid 
or inactive, and his genius was extinguished only with the last 
spark of retreating life. His passions rendered him, according as 
they disclosed themselves in affection or antipathy, an object of 
enthusiastic attachment, or of decided enmity; for he possessed 
none of that negative insipidity of character, whose love might be 
regarded with indifference, or whose resentment could be con- 
sidered with contempt. In this, it should seem, the temper of his 
associates took the tincture from his own ; for he acknowledged 
in the universe but two classes of objects — those of adoration the 
most fervent, or of aversion the most uncontrollable ; and it has 
been frequently a reproaeh to him, that, unsusceptible of indif- 
ference, often hating where he ought only to have despised, he 
alternately opened his heart and poured forth the treasures of his 
understanding to such as were incapable of appreciating the 
homage, and elevated to the privileges of an adversary some who 



215 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

were unqualified in all respects for the honour of a contest so 
distinguished. 

' It is said that the celebrated Dr Johnson professed to " love a 
good hater" — a temperament that would have singularly adapted 
him to cherish a prepossession in favour of our bard, who perhaps 
fell but little short even of the surly doctor in this qualification, 
as long as the disposition to ill-will continued ; but the warmth of 
his passions was fortunately corrected by their versatility. He 
was seldom, indeed never, implacable in his resentments, and 
sometimes, it has been alleged, not inviolably faithful in his 
engagements of friendship. Much, indeed, has been said about 
his inconstancy and caprice ; but I am inclined to believe, that 
they originated less in a levity of sentiment, than from an extreme 
impetuosity of feeling, which rendered him prompt to take 
umbrage ; and his sensations of pique, where he fancied he had 
discovered the traces of neglect, scorn, or unkindness, took their 
measure of asperity from the overflowings of the opposite senti- 
ment which preceded them, and which seldom failed to regain its 
ascendancy in his bosom on the return of calmer reflection. He 
was candid and manly in the avowal of his errors, and his avowal 
was a reparation. His native fierte never forsaking him for a 
moment, the value of a frank acknowledgment was enhanced ten- 
fold towards a generous mind, from its never being attended with 
servility. B|is mind, organised only for the stronger and more 
acute operations of the passions, was impracticable to the efforts 
of superciliousness that would have depressed it into humility, and 
equally superior to the encroachments of venal suggestions that 
might have led him into the mazes of hypocrisy 

' That Burns had received no classical education, and was 
acquainted with the Greek and Roman authors only through the 
medium of translations, is a fact of which all who were in the 
habit of conversing with him might readily be convinced. I have, 
indeed, seldom observed him to be at a loss in conversation, unless 
where the dead languages and their writers have been the subjects 
of discussion. When I have pressed him to tell me why he never 
applied himself to acquire the Latin, in particular, a language 
which his happy memory would have so soon enabled him to be 
master x)f, he used only to reply with a smile, that he had already 
learnt all the Latin he desired to know, and that was omnia vincit 
amor — a sentence, that from his writings and most favourite 
pursuits, it should undoubtedly seem that he was most thoroughly 
versed in ; but I really believe his classic erudition extended 
little if any further.' 

Mrs Riddel acknowledged the imputed irregularities of Burns, 
but pled that ' the eccentric intuitions of genius too often yield 



CHARACTER OF BURNS. 217 

the soul to the wild effervescence of desires, always unbounded, 
and sometimes equally dangerous to the repose of others as 

dangerous to its own I trust,' she says in conclusion, ' that 

honest fame will be permanently affixed to Burns's character, which 
I think it will be found he has merited by the candid and impartial 
among his countrymen. And where a recollection of the impru- 
dences that sullied his brighter qualifications interposes, let the 
imperfection of all human excellence be remembered at the same 
time, leaving those inconsistencies, which alternately exalted his 
nature into the seraph and sank it again into the man, to the 
tribunal which alone can investigate the labyrinths of the human 
heart — 

" Where they alike in trembling hope repose — 
The bosom of his father and his God." ' 1 

Mrs Riddel's prediction has certainly been verified, for an honest 
fame, and something more, does now attach to the memory of 
Robert Burns. It is many years since any open attempt has been 
made to vilify the peasant bard on any account whatever, and 
it is abundantly clear, that no such attempt will ever again be 
made by any man who wishes to stand well with the Scottish 
public; for whatever sectarian views may sway, or whatever 
prudish feelings intrude, no man amongst us can endure that 
the shadow of the fame of Burns, personal or literary, should 
ever be made less. The danger is now, indeed, not that Burns 
may be under-estimated or calumniated, but that the affection in 
which his memory is held, may interfere with even the most 
friendly attempts to set forth the lights and shadows of his 
character with historic fidelity. 

On a narrow and critical examination of the life and conduct of 
our great poet, and thus getting quit of the almost mythic gloss 
which already invests it, we do not find either that garreteer- 
like poverty which is usually associated with his name, or that 
tendency to excessive or wild irregularity which has been imputed 
to him. Burns was cut short by an accidental disease in the midst 
of a life, humble indeed compared with his deserts, but one attended 
with no essential privations, not to any serious extent distressing 
to his spirit, and not unhopeful. A very short time before his 
death, he is found looking cheerfully forward to promotion in the 
branch of public service to which he had attached himself; and 
it may be added, if he had lived a few years longer, and attained 
the expected promotion, his situation would have been one far 
from despicable. In his official conduct, Burns, it fully appears, 

1 Mrs Walter Riddel gave material assistance to Dr Currio in his task aa 
biographer and editor of Burns. 

IV. k 



218 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

displayed diligence and accuracy. He behaved himself much-more 
like a man of the world than is generally supposed. The charges 
against him on the score of intemperance have been proved to be 
greatly exaggerated. He was only the occasional boon-companion, 
never the dram-drinker or the sot ; and his aberrations in this 
line were those of the age, not his own. There remains, indeed, 
one serious frailty at the charge of Burns. It has been spoken 
of here with candour, lest, in the event of its being slurred over, 
an exaggerated idea of it should be entertained. It certainly was 
much to be deplored ; and yet we must see that it was connected 
and inwrought with the peculiar poetical power which he pos- 
sessed, a power of which, apparently, we should not have had 
the benefits on cheaper terms. 1 We may pronounce, there- 
fore, against the sin, and deplore the humiliation into which it 
brought so noble a genius ; but we must at the same time remem- 
ber, that the light which led astray was in him truly 'a light 
from heaven.' If Burns had lived ten years longer, we should 
have seen him surmounting the turbid wave of passion, and atoning 
for many of his errors. Let us give him the benefit of this ideal 
amendment. 

There, after all, was a defect in Burns which no number of years 
would have ever enabled him to remedy, and this was his want 
of a vigorous will. Thomas Carlyle, after writing most gene- 
rously of Burns, has been carried so far in his ardent admiration 
as to say, that no other man was so well entitled to be at the 
head of the public affairs of his day, as if his being so peculiarly 
a man of talent fitted him above all rivalry for that eminent 
situation. There could not be a greater mistake, for how could 

1 ' by his own hand— in words the import of which cannot he mistaken — 

it has been recorded that the order of his life but faintly corresponded with the 
clearness of his views. It is probable that he could have proved a still greater 
poet if, by strength of reason, he could have controlled the propensities which his 
sensibibties engendered ; but he would have been a poet of a different class : and, 
certain it is, had that desirable restraint been early established, many peculiar 
beauties which enrich his verse would never have existed, and many accessory 
influences which contribute greatly to their effect would have been wanting. For 
instance, the momentous truth of the passage, " One point must still be greatly dark," 
&c, could not have possibly been conveyed with such pathetic force by any poet 
that ever lived, speaking in his own voice ; unless it were felt that, like Burns, he 
was a man who preached from the text of his own errors ; and whose wisdom, 
beautiful as a flower that might have risen from seed sown from above, was in fact 
a scion from the root of personal suffering. Whom did the poet intend should be 
thought of occupying that grave over which, after modestly setting forth the 
moral discernment and warm affections of its " poor inhabitant below," it is 
supposed to be inscribed that— 

■ " Thoughtless follies laid him low, 

And stained his name." 
"Who but himself— himself anticipating the too probable termination of his own 
course ? Here is a sincere and solemn avowal— a public declaration from his own 
will — a confession at once devout, poetical, and human— a history in the shape of a 
prophecy I '—Wordsworth. 



BURNS AS A POET. 219 

a man, who was unable to exercise a control upon his own 
passions in the simplest things, have ever been able to exercise the 
control upon himself and others which is necessary in the great 
statesman ? The general abilities of Burns were no doubt extra- 
ordinary ; but it is perfectly clear, that the poetical temperament 
ruled in his nature. He was impressionable, irritable, capricious. 
Whatever he did that was brilliant, he did under impulse. He 
only reflected when it was too late. Minds like his have their own 
mission ; but it is not to sway great democracies. It is to touch 
the souls of men with their fine sensibilities, and give an imperish- 
able voice to the subtlest emotions of their bosoms. In studying 
such minds, we are not to expect calm and regulated movement, 
as of some machine perfect in all its parts, and which has certain 
definite purposes to serve. It is not of that active character at 
all. We are rather to look for some passive thing like the iEolian 
harp, which has a hundred moods in an hour. Such, truly, is the 
Poet ; and it must ever be a fearful problem, how such a being is 
to stand towards the rest of society, how he is to get his living, 
and how he is to observe one -half of the sober maxims of 
conventional life. 

As a poet, Burns is not of course to be ranked with any of the 
higher denominations. He competes not with the Homers or the 
Miltons ; scarcely even with the Drydens or Popes. But he stands 
in a very noble rank by himself, as one who treated with unap- 
proached felicity all the sensuous familiar things which lay around 
him in the world. It may be said, that he is happy in the treating 
of these things in a great measure by reason of his singular 
command of language. Whatever idea was within him, there was 
a channel of expression for it, by which it came out in full and 
true lineaments, and without a single sacrifice to rant, or trick, or 
the exigencies of verse. The possession of this language-power, 
Horatian as it was, would have never of itself made a great poet ; 
but it, and the fruitful mind together, conferred an advantage which 
there was no resisting. When we seek to ascertain what it is in 
the thoughts and feelings of Burns which pleases us so much, we 
find that it mainly is their unaffected simplicity and naivete. He 
was the true man before he was the true poet. To be so entirely 
free of a tedious literalness, he is the most faithful of painters. The 
emotions of a liberal genial nature flow from him, and Ave all feel 
that it is a voice which admirably represents his kind. There is 
never any pause for an expletive ornament. Art is completely con- 
cealed in his case, simply because he wrote the ideas as they natu- 
rally rose and came, and not with any secondary view to effect. Thus 
he is the least egotistic of poets, for even where he worships some 
female divinity of his own, he does it in the words which all would 



220 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 






feel to be suitable in the like circumstances. It is alike in humour 
and in the serious or sentimental. Never does Burns fail to be 
true, simple, and direct, and rarely, accordingly, do his verses fail 
to paint themselves upon the imagination of the reader. I must, 
after all, hesitate about the place which ought to be assigned to 
him among the British poets. Since his own day, he has advanced 
immensely in consideration ; and perhaps he is only now as 
Shakspeare was in the time of Dryden and Rowe. What the 
British opinion may ultimately decide about one who drew so 
faithfully ard sang so sweetly, it might be rash to vaticinate. 



POSTHUMOUS HISTORY OF BURNS. 



Burns died, not exactly in pressing indigence or privation, but 
without possessing any such amount of property as could place his 
widow and children above more than immediate want. It is not, 
everything considered, so wonderful that he left his family in these 
circumstances, as that he died free of debt except to a compara- 
tively trilling amount. 1 This is indeed a fact highly remarkable, 
and one which reflects a peculiar lustre upon the name of Burns. 
The money realised by his poems appears to have been expended 
by the time he left Ellisland: he obtained no more that we are 
aware of from that source, excepting the small sum thrust upon 
him by Mr Thomson. He had lived four and a half years in 
Dumfries, with an ascertained income which ' was for some time 
as low as L.50, and never rose above L.70 a year,' 2 with a 

1 It has been repeatedly stated in so many words, that Burns died free of debt. 
This, even by his own confession (letter to his brother, July 10, 1796), is not strictly 
true. Besides the amount of the unfortunate account which had been presented 
at so unsuiting a time, he had small accounts due to other tradesmen. The poet 
would also appear to have never quite succeeded in squaring accounts with his 
landlord, Captain Hamilton. The interest of his countrymen about every authentic 
particular respecting Burns, seems to give these small matters a title to be noticed. 
I deem it probable, after all, that the total amount of our poet's debts did not 
much exceed thirty pounds. The following letter from Gilbert Burns to Mr 
Wallace, writer in Dumfries, throws some light on the subject, while still further 
confirming the fact, that Mr James Clarke, the schoolmaster, was a debtor of 
Burns: 

Mossgiel, lrf Jan. 1797. 
Mr Wallace — Sir, I intended to have been in Dumfries about this time, to have 
paid off my brother's debts; but I find much difficulty in sparing as much money. 
I think of offering Captain Hamilton and Mr Williamson the half of their acc t9 > 
and begging a little time to pay the other half. If Mr Clark pay up his bill, I 
hope to be able to pay off the smaller acc ts - I beg you will write me your 
opinion immediately on this subject. Will you have the goodness to mention this 
to them, which will save me some uneasiness when I come to Dumfries, which I 
think will be in two or three weeks, unless I have occasion to delay it till Dumfries 
fair? I beg that you will smooth the way to me in this business as much as you 
can. I do feel much hurt at it; but, as I suppose the delay can be no great incon- 
venience to the gentlemen, I hope they wiU be indulgent to me. I am, sir, your 
most obedt humble sert. Gilbert Burns. 

2 Currie. 



222 LIFE AND WOEKS OF BURNS. 

family of seven or eight individuals to support, and this at a time 
when the necessaries of life were considerably dearer than they 
usually are now ; and yet he had exercised so much prudence and 
self-denial, that only a few pounds stood at his debit when he 
died. On the other side of the account, we find the L.180 
which he had advanced from the profits of his poems to his 
brother, books to the value of about L.90, and his household 
furniture. The draft for L.10 sent by Mr Burnes, and that 
for L.5 sent by Mr Thomson, lay unrealised in the widow's 
possession, and formed the subject of a legal writ issued by 
the Commissary of Dumfries on the ensuing 6th of October, 
confirming to her, ' executrix qua relict to the umquhile Robert 
Burns,' the use of the sums which they represented. 

While Burns lay dead in his house, his friend Mr Lewars 
addressed a letter to Mr Burnes of Montrose, informing him of 
the melancholy event, and apologising for the delay of an answer to 
his late kind communication, on the ground that, at the time it was 
received, ' Mr Burns was totally unable either to write or dictate 
a letter.' It is pleasing to mention, as a trait honourable to the 
family to which the poet belonged, that Mr Burnes immediately 
sent a letter of the kindest condolence to the widow, offering to 
do anything in his power to alleviate her affliction. This, be it 
remembered, was not a rich man, and he had a family of his own 
to provide for; yet, apparently as a simple matter of course, he 
offered to relieve the widow of the charge of her eldest son, and to 
educate him with his own children : he also enclosed an additional 
sum of L.5, to relieve her immediate necessities. Adverting, more- 
over, to what the poet had told him of his brother Gilbert's debt, 
he counselled, as the payment would be hard upon that respect- 
able man, that she should, as far as circumstances permitted, ' use 
lenity in settling with him.' Mrs Burns replied in suitable terms 
of gratitude to Mr Burnes, but declined, in the meantime, to part 
with any of her children : she heartily concurred in the feeling 
which dictated his allusion to Gilbert. It may here be added, that 
this excellent man, who had long struggled under great difficulties 
at Mossgiel, made up his mind at his brother's death to sell off 
all he possessed, in order to obtain the means of discharging 
the debt he owed to the destitute Dumfries family. It is most 
pleasing to record, that Mrs Eobert Burns, setting aside all regard 
to her own necessities, resolutely forbade the proposed* step being 
taken. The debt was not paid till twenty-four years after, and it 
seems to have then been paid without interest; but during the 
whole time of its currency, Gilbert had maintained his mother, 
a burden with which the poet in life would have been partly 
chargeable, and he had also taken charge of the poet's eldest son 



DR CURRIE CALLED TO ACT AS EDITOE. 223 

for several years. Poverty, it must be admitted, has its imme- 
diate evils; but when it gives occasion, as in the instances now 
under our attention, to generous self-sacrifice amongst those con- 
nected by the ties of blood, it appears, in contrast with the sordid 
emotions too often excited by world's wealth, a blessing, and this 
not merely to those who well sustain its pressure, but to all who 
have hearts to be touched and spirits to be chastened by the noble 
examples it sets before them. 

Immediately after the death of Burns, his friend Syme began 
to exert himself with the greatest zeal and assiduity in rousing 
public feeling in behalf of the widow and children. With him 
was associated in his task Dr William Maxwell, the medical 
attendant of the poet — a man of somewhat singular character 
and attainments. The popular report regarding him was, that, 
having been at the medical schools of Paris in the heat of the 
Revolution, he had contracted democratic sentiments ; had acted 
as one of the national guard round the scaffold of Louis 
XVI., and dipped his handkerchief in the royal blood. Recently 
returned to his own country, he had commenced practice in 
Dumfries, but was as yet only laying the foundations of that 
high professional character which he subsequently perfected. He 
had attended Burns in his last illness, and participated strongly 
in the interest occasioned by his premature death. He accord- 
ingly entered at once, and with the greatest cordiality, into the 
project for the benefit of the poet's family. To Syme and him 
was immediately added Mr Alexander Cunningham, the bard's 
principal Edinburgh friend, and one not less eager to do whatever 
was in his power in a cause so dear to charity. From some one 
of these three men had, in all probability, proceeded the newspaper 
announcement which has been quoted. It contains a passage 
which could never have been allowed to be published, if Burns 
had left a grown-up instead of an infant family; but it also 
presents a gratifying proof of the activity of the men in the 
benevolent object which they sought to advance. 

Symp had an old college friend in practice as a physician at 
Liverpool, a man of excellent literary talents, whom an affinity of 
tastes had brought into intimacy with Mr William Roscoe, of that 
town. The person meant was Dr James Currie, who has since 
been so well known as the biographer and editor of Burns, but 
who at this time enjoyed only a dubious fame, as the supposed 
author of Jasper Wilson's Letter to Mr Pitt, a pamphlet in which 
the war had been deprecated with a power of reasoning far 
from pleasing to the administration. Currie, who was the son 
of a Scotch clergyman, and a native of Dumfriesshire, had read 
Burns's poems on their first appearance with the keenest relish 



224 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

of their beauties; and he had received, from a casual interview 
with the poet at Dumfries in 1792, the impression that he was 
a man of marvellous general talents as well as a charming Doric 
poet. On now hearing of the death of Burns, he expressed to 
Syme a strong interest in the intended subscription, and also in 
the preparation of the life and posthumous works of the poet. 
Before a month had elapsed from the poet's death, we find that he 
had collected forty or fifty guineas for the family. He was at 
the same time writing about the proposed publication, in such 
terms as amounted to an offer of his own literary assistance to any 
extent that might be desired. For some time, there seems to have 
been an uncertainty as to the selection of an editor and biographer 
for Burns. Professor Stewart was the first person thought of. 
Another was Mrs Walter Riddel. Dr Currie thought so well of 
Syme's talents, as to press the undertaking upon him. But it 
was finally settled, in September, and very fortunately so, that 
this duty should devolve upon Dr Currie. 

Meanwhile, the subscription went on, but not flourishingly. In 
Dumfriesshire, somewhat more than L.100 had been contri- 
buted within the first three months. In Liverpool, Dr Currie 
gathered seventy guineas. Let it not be too surprising that the 
contribution from Edinburgh had not, by the end of the year, gone 
much beyond the latter sum, though Burns had there had many 
admirers and not a few friends. Every one who has had aught 
to do with the collection of subscriptions for charitable objects, 
must know how little will come spontaneously from even those 
circles where the purpose of the collection is presumed to be most 
cordially contemplated, and how many who might be expected 
to give liberally give nothing. Accidental importunities here 
and there determine the result. It does not appear that any 
efforts were made in Scotland beyond the publication of advertise- 
ments in the newspapers. In London, there was greater success, 
and the entire sum realised was L.700. 1 For the support of 
the widow and her five boys, this was evidently inadequate; 
but it was hoped that the posthumous publication would, realise 
such an addition, as might make a tolerable provision in a style 
not inferior to that in which the family had previously lived. 

In the collection of Burns's letters and fugitive poems, Mr Syme 
was laudably diligent during the latter part of 1796, and consider- 
able success attended his efforts. The letters to Mrs Dunlop were 
recovered, on the condition of hers to Burns being returned to 
herself. Those to Clarinda remained with herself, as unsuitable 
for the public, excepting a few passages, which she promised to 

1 See Appendix, No. 14. 



MR GEORGE THOMSON. 225 

transcribe and send, provided that her own were returned. 1 Mr 
Robert Aiken had gathered together many of the bard's communi- 
cations ; but the bundle was stolen by an unfaithful clerk, and, it 
is feared, destroyed, to prevent detection. The mass collected by 
Syme was transmitted to Dr Currie in February 1797, and excited 
great surprise from its utter want of arrangement. ' I received,' 
says Currie, ' the complete sweepings of his drawers and of his 
desk — as it appeared to me — even to the copy-book on which his 
little boy had been practising his writing.' It may partly account 
for the confusion, that Syme spoke a month earlier to Mrs 
M'Lehose of being worn out with duty, and having to write 
occasionally twenty letters a day. Currie relates, that he read 
these papers ' with sympathy, with sorrow, with pity, and with 
admiration; and at times, with strong though transient disgust.' 

Dr Currie, after having the heart-secrets of Burns exposed to 
him, spoke on the subject as might be expected of a sensible, kind- 
natured man. He said: 'The errors and faults, as well as the 
excellences, of Burns's life and character, afford scope for painful 
and melancholy observation. This part of the subject must be 
touched with great tenderness ; but it must be touched. If his 
friends do not touch it, his enemies will. To speak my mind to 
you freely, it appears to me that his misfortunes arose chiefly 
from his errors. This it is unnecessary, and indeed improper, to 
say; but his biographer must keep it in mind, to prevent him 
from running into those bitter invectives against Scotland, &c. 
which the extraordinary attractions and melancholy fate of the 
poet naturally provoke. Six Liverpool poets have sung the 
requiem of our admired bard; and every one of them has indulged 
in the most pointed, and in some degree unjust, invectives against 
the country and the society in which he lived.' 

An important part of the unpublished writings of Burns con- 
sisted in the songs, upwards of sixty in number, which he had 
written for the work of Mr George Thomson. Of these, only six 
had as yet been published, for one part or half-volume of Mr 

1 I have been favoured with an extract from a letter of Mrs M'Lehose to Mr 
Syme, written at this time: 

1 What can have impressed such an idea upon you, as that I ever conceived the 
most distant intention to destroy these precious memorials of an acquaintance, the 
recollection of which would influence me were I to live till fourscore. Be assured, 
I never will suffer one of them to perish. This I give you my solemn word of 
honour upon; nay, more, on condition that you send me my letters, 1 will select 
such passages from our dear Bard's letters as will do honour to his memory, and 
cannot hurt my own fame even with the most rigid.' 

In another letter of the 9th January 1797, to the same gentleman, she says: ' It 
rejoices me to hear so large a sum is to come from other places— and [I],join you 
in reprobating Caledonia's capital for her shabby donation. But there are few 
souls anywhere, who understood or could enter into the relish of such a character 
as B.'s. There was an electricity about him, which could only touch or pervade a 
feir, cast in nature's finest mould.' 



226 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Thomson's work had alone appeared. Burns had conferred on 
Mr Thomson the copyright of these songs, as securing that 
gentleman against their being used in any rival publication. Of 
course, when a posthumous collection of the poet's writings was 
designed for the benefit of his destitute family, Mr Thomson at 
once gave up the songs. As he could not be said to have paid a 
pecuniary equivalent for them, this conduct was no more than 
just ; but Mr Thomson did all besides which was to be expected 
from a man superior to sordid considerations. In order that the 
songs might come out fresh in the posthumous "collection, and thus 
serve the family as far as possible, he interrupted, or at least 
retarded, the progress of his own work for some considerable 
time. He at first demurred to the surrender of the valuable 
series of letters which Burns had addressed to him regarding 
Scottish songs; but this point was speedily yielded to the earnest 
request of the trustees of the poet's family. He was also induced 
to permit his own letters to appear in connection with those of 
Burns, thus perfecting a section of the projected work which 
Currie justly considered as the most valuable. After remarking 
to his publishers, that ' the letters of Mr Thomson are themselves 
very good,' the learned biographer says : ' His conduct in giving 
up this treasure to the family is deserving of every praise.' 1 
Such was the sense of it entertained by both the widow and 
brother of the bard, and such afterwards proved to be the feeling 
of the children of Burns. By the whole family, Mr Thomson has 
ever been regarded as one who had acted in a most honourable 
manner towards them. 2 



1 Correspondence of Dr Currie with Messrs Cadell & Davies, manuscript in 
possession of Joseph Mayer, Esq. Liverpool. 

2 Mr Thomson's elegant work extended to five volumes, of which an octavo 
edition was subsequently published, and after a long interval, he added a sixth 
volume in 1841, the work having thus occupied in its preparation and publi- 
cation not much less than half a century. The editor was a man of singularly 
amiable character and cheerful manners. A hitherto inedited letter of Mr Gilbert 
Burns, addressed to him on receiving the present of a volume of his collection of 
songs, proves"' that the statement in the text is not exaggerated. 

TO MR GEORGE THOMSON, TRUSTEES' OFFICE, EDINBURGH. 

Dinning, Uth March 1800. 
Sir — I received your very acceptable present of your songs, which calls for my 
warmest thanks. If ever I come to Edinburgh, I will certainly avail myself of your 
invitation, to call on a person whose handsome conduct to my brother's family has 
secured my esteem, and confirmed to me the opinion, that musical taste and talents 
have a close connection with the harmony of the moral feelings. I am unwilling 
indeed to believe that the motions of every one's heart are dark as Erebus to 
whom Dame Nature has denied a good ear and musical capacity, as her ladyship 
has been pleased to endow myself but scantily in these particulars ; but ' happy the 
swain who possesses it, happy his cot, and happy the sharer of it.' To the sharer 
of yours, I beg you will present my most cordial congratulations. My sister-in-law 
begs me to present her best thanks to you for her copy, and to assure you that 



DR. currie's memoir. 227 

Another section of Burns's writings consisted in the songs he 
had contributed to Johnson's Scots Musical Museum. The number 
sent in his handwriting has been stated at 180; but many of 
these were old songs, gathered by him from oral tradition; many 
had only received from him a few improving touches ; and only 
forty-seven were finally decided upon by Dr Currie as wholly and 
undoubtedly the production of Burns. The poet himself, though 
the voluminousness of Johnson's collection seems to have disposed 
him to regard it as ' the text-book and standard of Scottish song 
and music,' felt ashamed of much that he had contributed to it. 
' Here, once for all,' said he in a letter to Mr Thomson, ' let me 
apologise for the many silly compositions of mine in this work. 
Many beautiful airs wanted words, and in the hurry of other 
avocations, if I could string a parcel of rhymes together, anything 
near tolerable, I was fain to let them pass.' On the other hand, 
a considerable number of his contributions to Johnson were 
equal to the best of his compositions, and had already attained 
popularity. 

The memoir of Dr Currie by his son contains an ample account 
of the difficulties experienced by that gentleman in arranging the 
papers and composing the life of Burns. The only material 
assistance he seems to have obtained, was from Mr Syme and 
Gilbert Burns during a fortnight which they spent with him at 
Liverpool in the autumn of 1797. ' It was determined that the 
work should be published by subscription; and Dr Currie, in 
addition to that part for which he was more particularly respon- 
sible, undertook to make the necessary arrangements with the 
booksellers and printer, and to superintend the publication. A 
negotiation was soon afterwards concluded by him with the 
London publishers (Messrs Cadell & Davies), who behaved 
with a liberality very honourable to their character — at once 

however little she may have expressed it, she has a proper sense of the kind atten- 
tion you have so kindly shewn her.— I am, dear sir, with the highest esteem, your 
most obedient, humble servant, Gilbert Burns. 

Mr Thomson retired from the principal clerkship of the Trustees' Office in 
1839, after having filled it for fifty-eight years. He died in February 1851, aged 94. 

On the 3d of March 1847, a silver vase, purchased by one hundred gentlemen of 
Edinburgh, was presented to Mr Thomson, as a mark of their respect and esteem. 
On that occasion, Lord Cockburn spoke of ' the protracted life which had been 
devoted, in one course of unchanging gentleness, to public and private duty.' In 
his official capacity, 'in everything that related to the advancement of the useful 
and the elegant arts, he was an instructor and a guide; and if there was a single 
young man who had the promise of merit united with a humble disposition, it was 
to Air Thomson he looked for counsel, and it was bis house that was always ready 
to receive him.' As to the imputations in connection with the history of Burns, 
bis lordship said, that he had long ago Btudied the matter with as much candour as 
any man could apply to any subject in which he was not personally interested; and 
his ■ clear conviction was, not only that all these imputations were groundless, but 
that, if placed now in the same situation in which he was then, nothing different 
or better could be done,' 



228 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURKS. 

agreeing to take upon themselves the risk of the promised of 
expected subscriptions to the intended volumes, and also to 
relieve the widow and family from all anxiety or further trouble 
attending their publication. To those persons who were not 
eye-witnesses, it would be difficult to convey an idea how much 
Dr Carrie's labours- were increased by the necessity of attention 
to all these details. Indeed, he found himself embarked in an 
undertaking which consumed much valuable time, that would 
have been otherwise employed on subjects connected with his 
profession.' 1 He was sustained through all these troubles and 
exertions by his benevolent feelings. ' I trust,' he says to Cadell 
and Davies (February 1798), 'that by our co-operation we shall 
lift this family from the ground, and give the five infant sons a 
chance in the world which their poor father never had.' 

In a subsequent letter to the same individuals, Dr Carrie says : 
1 In tracing the life of this singular genius, it is most curious and 
interesting to observe the incidents which gave rise to the 
effusions of his muse. Every one of his poems, printed and 
imprinted, has a history attending it, which, while it illustrates the 
character of the poet, illustrates also the manners and character 
of the class of men to which he belonged. In giving his 
biography, therefore, it would be very desirable to have the 
liberty of introducing such of his poems as relate to the incidents 
recorded, in their proper places, as well as to introduce occa- 
sionally his letters to his friends and his own private observations 
from his imperfect diaries. In this way, his journey through the 
classical ground in the south of Scotland, as well as his tour 
through the Highlands, including his visits to the Dukes of Athole 
and Gordon, may be made out clearly and very amusingly.' The 
biographer here sketches oat the plan which has been for the first 
time fully followed out. in the work now before the reader. The 
degree in which Dr Currie acted upon it was much more limited. 

The Works of Robert Burns, with an Account of his Life, and a 
Criticism on his Writings, by James Currie, M.D, appeared in May 
1800, in four volumes 8vo. The publication was received with 
the greatest approbation by the public. It was admitted that the 
biography was executed with surprising delicacy towards the 
memory of the poet and the feelings of his sarviving friends, as 
well as the interests of truth and virtue. The letters of Burns 
occupying two of the volumes, formed a feature of novelty which 
was highly appreciated. These compositions deepened the sense 
of his literary powers which had been previously entertained, . 
particularly in England, where there was no drawback, as in the 

1 Memoirs of Dr Currie, by his son William W. Currie. 2 vols. 1031. 



dk curme's memoir. 229 

poetry, to their being fully understood. It was admitted by Dr 
Aiken, then considered at the head of criticism in England, that 
English literature scarcely contained any compositions of the same 
nature equal to them. The success of the publication was great. 
Four editions, of 2000 copies each, were disposed of in the first 
four years. It is not unworthy of remark, that the first edition 
was printed in a very elegant style at Liverpool, by John M'Creery, 
a north-of-Ireland man of Scottish extraction, who had entered 
upon his task with a feeling superior to the usual principles 
of trade. He is described as a man of talent and extraordinary 
ardour of character, a lover of literature, and a worshipper of 
genius. He had exerted himself to render the volumes a beauti- 
ful specimen of the typographic art, and in this object he succeeded, 
so as to secure general admiration. 1 The profits of the work 
are stated by Mr Wallace Cnrrie as having been L.1200; but I 
find in Dr Currie's own papers reference made to the sum of 
L.1400, as that realised for the widow and her family by the 
publication. 

Mrs Burns continued to live in the same small house in which 
her husband died, an object of general respect on account of her 
modest and amiable character, and the interest associated with the 
memory of the poet. The proceeds of the fund raised for her, 
sufficed to enable her to bring up her sons in a creditable manner. 
Dr Currie paid her a visit in June 1804, when ' everything about 
her,' he says, ' bespoke decent competence, and even comfort. 
She shewed me the study and small library of her husband nearly 
as he left them. By everything I hear, she conducts herself 
irreproachably.' 

He adds : ' From Mrs Burns's house, I went to the church-yard, 
at no great distance, to visit the grave of the poet. As it is still 
uninscribed, we could not have found it, had not a person we met 
with in the church-yard pointed it out. He told us he knew Burns 
well, and that he (Burns) himself chose the spot in which he is 
buried. His grave is on the north-east corner of the church-yard, 
which it fills up, and at the side of the grave of his two sons, 
Wallace and Maxwell, the first of whom, a lad of great promise, 
died last year of a consumption, the last immediately after his 
father.' 

Robert, the eldest son, whose early intelligence seems to have 
excited general admiration, attended for two sessions at the univer- 
sity of Edinburgh, and one in the university of Glasgow. A 
situation being procured for him in the Stamp Office, London, he 

1 Ten copies were printed on thicker and finer paper than the rest— of which 
four were for the brother and three sisters of Burns, one to Syme, one to George 
Thomson, one to Murdoch (the poet's preceptor), and one to Mr Koscoe. 



230 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

removed thither in 1804, and devoted himself to a routine of 
drudgeries which seems to have effectually repressed the literary 
tendencies of his mind. Only a few songs and miscellaneous 
pieces of poetry, some of which, however, possessed considerable 
merit, have proceeded from his pen. For twenty-nine years, he 
pursued this humble career, endeavouring to improve his slender 
income by privately teaching the classics and mathematics, and 
during this long time he was never able to revisit Scotland, or 
have a meeting with his mother. In 1833, having obtained a 
superannuation allowance, he retired to Dumfries, where he still 
lives (1852). 

James and William, the two other surviving sons of the poet, 
obtained commissions in the East India Company's service 
through the kindness of the Marchioness of Hastings. They 
passed through a most honourable career of service, attaining 
respectively the ranks of major and lieutenant-colonel. In their 
wanderings in a foreign land, they ever found their name and 
parentage a passport to the friendship of all whom they encoun- 
tered or with whom they were associated. Among their most 
cherished desires, was that of adding to the comforts of their 
mother. Mr Maule of Panmure (afterwards Lord Panmure) had, 
in 1817, settled a pension upon Mrs Burns of L.50 a year, and 
this she had enjoyed about a year and a half, when her son 
James, having obtained a place in the commissariat, was able to 
relieve her from the necessity of being beholden to a stranger's 
generosity. Mrs Burns, through the liberality of her children, 
spent her latter years in comparative affluence, yet ' never 
changed, nor wished to change her place.' In March 1834, at 
the age of sixty-eight, she closed her respectable life in the 
same room in which her husband had breathed his last thirty- 
eight years before. 1 

1 The household effects of Mrs Burns were sold by public auction on the 10th 
and 11th of April, and brought uncommonly high sums, from the anxiety of the 
public to possess relics of this interesting household. According to the Dum- 
fries Courier, ' the auctioneer commenced with small articles, and when he came to 
a broken copper coffee-pot, there were so many bidders, that the price paid 
exceeded twenty-fold the intrinsic value. A tea-kettle of the same metal suc- 
ceeded, and reached L.2 sterling. Of the linens, a tablecloth, marked 1792, which, 
speaking commercially, may be worth half-a-crown or five shillings, was knocked 
down at L.5, 7s. Many other articles commanded handsome prices, and the older 
and plainer the furniture, the better it sold. The rusty iron top of a shower-bath, 
which Mrs Dunlop of Dunlop sent to the poet when afflicted with rheumatism, was 
bought by a Carlisle gentleman for L.l,8s.; and a low wooden kitchen-chair, on 
which the late Mrs Burns sat when nursing her children, was run up to L.3, 7s. The 
crystal and china were much coveted, and brought, in most cases, splendid prices. 
Even an old fender reached a figure which would go far to buy half a dozen new 
ones, and everything towards the close attracted notice, down to greybeards, bottles, 
and a half-worn pair of bellows. The poet's eight-day clock, made by a Mauchline 
artist, attracted great attention, from the circumstance that it had frequently been 
wound up by his own hand. In a few seconds it was bid up to L.15 or guineas, 



GILBERT BURNS'S EDITION. 231 

Mr Gilbert Burns, the early companion, and at all times the 
steadfast friend of the poet, continued to struggle with the 
miserable soil of Mossgiel till about the year 1797, when he 
removed to the farm of Dinning, on the estate of Mr Monteath of 
Closeburn, in Nithsdale. He, some years after, united himself 
to a Miss Breckonridge, by whom he had six sons and five 
daughters. He was a man of sterling sense and sagacity, pious 
without asceticism or bigotry, and entertaining liberal and enlight- 
ened views, without being the least of an enthusiast. His letter 
to Dr Currie, dated from Dinning, October 24, 1800, shews no 
mean powers of composition, and embodies nearly all the philan- 
thropic views of human improvement which have been so broadly 
realised in our own day. We are scarcely more affected by the 
consideration of the penury under which some of his brother's 
noblest compositions were penned, than by the reflection, that this 
beautiful letter was the effusion of a man who, with his family, 
daily wrought long and laboriously under all those circumstances 
of parsimony which characterise Scottish rural life. Some years 
after, Mr Gilbert Burns was appointed by Lady Blantyre to be 
land-steward or factor upon her estate of Lethington, in East- 
Lothian, to which place he accordingly removed. His conduct in 
this capacity, during nearly twenty-five years, was marked by 
such fidelity and prudence as to give the most perfect satisfaction 
to his titled employer. 

When the fourteen years' copyright of Df Currie's edition of 
the poet's works expired, and other publishers began, as usual, to 
reprint it, Messrs Cadell & Davies were anxious to maintain a 
preference for their own impressions in the market, and bethought 
them that this might be secured by their inducing Mr Gilbert 
Burns to add such notes and make such changes as he thought 
desirable. Gilbert was the more ready to yield to their wish, 
that he had now been convinced by two of his brother's surviving 
intimates, Messrs Gray and Findlater, that Dr Currie had done 
injustice to the poet's memory. A negotiation was entered upon, 
which excited some attention in unexpected quarters. Mr Words- 
worth issued a pamphlet, in the form of a letter to Mr Gray, 
discussing the whole question as to the extent of revelation 
required from the biographer of an author, with regard to the 
character of his subject, and especially any imputed failings. lie 
avowed a sense of indignation at Dr Currie for revealing so much 



and was finally disposed of for L.35. The purchaser had a hard battle to fight; 

but his spirit was good, and his purse obviously not a. light one, and the story 
ran that he had instructed Mr Richardson to secure a preference at any sum 
under L.60.' 



232 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

of the infirmities of Burns, and professed his desire to see this 
evil corrected. Gilbert Burns, while he felt annoyed at Words- 
worth's interference, resolved to act on the same view of the 
subject. This brought forth an indignant inquiry from Mr 
Roscoe, regarding the faults imputed to his friend Dr Currie, 
whose work, he said, had been, at its publication, approved of by 
none more loudly than by Gilbert Burns. Gilbert explained that, 
at the time when Dr Currie's book came out, he supposed that the 
biographer had spoken of his brother's errors from good information. 
He himself, having for the last few years of the poet's life lived 
fifty miles off, had not opportunities of knowing how the case 
really stood : he therefore approved of Dr Currie's memoir at the- 
time; but afterwards, from what he had learned from Mr Findlater, 
he became convinced that the statements had been exaggerated. 
The reader of the present Work has an opportunity of judging 
(see Appendix, No. 13) to what extent Gilbert acted discreetly in 
disturbing the matter which Currie has treated so gently. 

The edition which Gilbert Burns consequently prepared, and 
which appeared in 1820, must be regarded as a failure, as far as the 
views of the publishers were concerned. Messrs Cadell & Davies 
from the first desired a mass of fresh information, to illustrate 
both the course of the poet's life and his poems. When Gilbert 
Burns, in reply to their inquiry, asked L.500 for his trouble, they 
were confirmed in their expectation of such a new edition as would 
maintain a superiority over all others; and with some difficulty 
they brought themselves to agree to the demand. Their disap- 
pointment must have been great, when they found that their 
editor furnished only a very few meagre notes, did not admit any 
pieces excluded by Currie, and distinguished his edition chiefly 
by giving two letters on the poet's character from Gray and 
Findlater, together with a dissertation from his own pen on the 
effect of the Scottish national religion upon the Scottish national 
character! In reality, as only one edition was printed, the money 
paid to Gilbert was L.250, another moiety of the stipulated 
sum being contingent upon a reprint. If left to himself, he 
would have probably asked comparatively a trifle, if anything at 
all, for what he chiefly regarded as a labour of love and duty; it 
was Mr Gray, who, loving booksellers as little as he loved authors 
much, prompted this simple and worthy man to make a charge 
so much beyond all ordinary scales of literary remuneration. 
Gilbert seems to have been greatly relieved when Cadell and 
Davies ' regarding the handsomeness of the amount as a mark of 
what it will be in your power to do for us,' at once acceded to a 
proposition which, the other very naively says, ' I scarce could 
muster impudence to name.' 



BUKNS'S MONUMENT AT DUMFRIES. 233 

The receipt of the money enabled Gilbert to discharge to the 
widow of his brother the debt he had contracted thirty-two years 
before, when tiie generous poet advanced him L.180 out of the 
profits of his poems. After all, it was not appropriated by the 
poet's widow, but applied to relieve another member of the family 
from the pressure of poverty. 

The mother of Robert and Gilbert Burns lived in the household 
of the latter at Grant's Braes, near Lethington, till 1820, when 
she died at the age of eighty-eight, and was buried in the church- 
yard of Bolton. In personal aspect, Robert Burns resembled his 
mother ; Gilbert had the more aquiline features of his father. 
The portrait of Robert Burns, painted by a Mr Taylor, and of 
which an engraving was published by Messrs Constable & Com- 
pany a few years ago, bore a striking resemblance to Gilbert. 
This excellent man died at Grant's Braes, November 8, 1827, 
aged about sixty-seven years. 

After many years had passed without bringing the public to the 
raising of a monument over the remains of Burns, his widow, 
out of her small means, placed an unpretending stone upon his 
grave, merely indicating his name and age, and those of his two 
sons interred in the same spot. At length, Mr William Grierson, 
who had been acquainted with Burns, and had attended his 
funeral, succeeded in getting a few gentlemen together, by whom a 
committee was formed for the purpose of collecting subscriptions 
for that object. 

Money was speedily obtained; a plan was selected, and the 
foundations of a mausoleum were laid in St Michael's Churchyard, 
at a little distance from the angle where the remains of the poet 
had been originally placed. On the 19th of September 1815, the 
coffin of Burns was raised from its original resting-place, that it 
might be deposited in the new monument. On the lid being 
removed, ' there,' says Mr M'Diarmid, ' lay the remains of the 
great poet, to all appearance entire, retaining various traces of 
recent vitality, or to speak more correctly, exhibiting the features 
of one who had recently sunk into the sleep of death. The 
forehead struck every one as beautifully arched, if not so high as 
might reasonably have been supposed, while the scalp was rather 
thickly covered with hair, and the teeth perfectly firm and white. 1 
Altogether, the scene was so imposing, that the commonest work- 
men stood uncovered, as the late Dr Gregory did at the exhuma- 
tion of the remains of King Robert Bruce, and for some moments 
remained inactive, as if thrilling under the effects of some unde- 
finable emotion, while gazing on all that remained of one " whose 

1 See Appendix, No. 15. 



234 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

fame is wide as the world itself." But the scene, however im- 
posing, was brief; for the instant the workmen inserted a shell 
beneath the original wooden coffin, the head separated from the 
trunk, and the whole body, with the exception of the bones, 
crumbled into dust.' The monument erected on this occasion is 
an elegant Grecian temple, adorned with a mural sculpture by 
Turnerelli, descriptive of the idea of Coila finding Burns at th« 
plough, and flinging her inspiring mantle over him. 



VERSICLES OF BURNS. 



Burns was much addicted through life to the enunciation of 
impromptu verses, in the form of epigrams and epitaphs, gene- 
rally of a satiric character. Having provided himself in Edinburgh 
with a diamond suitable for writing on glass, he often scribbled 
these hasty productions on the windows of inns and taverns, 
thus gratifying the whim of the moment too often at the expense 
of prudence and self-respect. Dr Currie remarks, that the 
epigrams of Burns are strikingly inferior to his other writings, 
and few will be inclined to dissent from the opinion. They often, 
indeed, are totally without point, so that one wonders how they 
should have ever been committed to writing, much more that so 
many of them should have been printed by the author. In the 
present work, all of these versicles which are connected with 
the poet's biography are presented at their proper places : the 
remainder are here grouped together, with such prose annotation 
as seems necessary to illustrate them and give them significancy. 



EPITAPH FOR GAVIN HAMILTON. 

The poor man weeps — here Gavin sleeps, 
Whom canting wretches blamed: 

But with such as he, where'er he be, 
May I be saved or damned ! 



EPITAPH FOR ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ. 

Know thou, O stranger to the fame 
Of this much-loved, much-honoured name! 
(For none that knew him need be told) 
A warmer heart death ne'er made cold. 



236 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



EPITAPH ON A CELEBRATED RULING ELDER. 



Here souter Hood in death does sleep — 

To hell, if he's gane thither, * 
Satan, gie him thy gear to keep, money 

He '11 haud it weel thegither. 



ON WEE JOHNNY. 1 

HlC JACET WEE JOHNNV. 

Whoe'er thou art, reader, know 
That death has" murdered Johnny! 

And here his body lies fu' low — 
For saul he ne'er had ony. 

It is curious that in a rare old work, Nugce Venales, sive The* 
saurus ridendi et jocandi, &c, bearing date 1663, but no place or 
publisher's name, there is a Latin epigram turning upon exactly 
the same jest : 

1 Oh Deus omnipotens, vituli miserere Joannis, 
Quern mors praeveniens non sinit esse bovem : 
Corpus in Italia est, habet intestina Brabantus, 
Ast animam nemo : Cur ? quia non habuit.' 



Among Burns's acquaintance at Mauchline was a mason 
named James Humphry, who, if devoid of the genius of the 
poet, at least possessed equal flow of language, and a scarcely 
less remarkable gift for theological controversy. Burns and he 
had had many collisions on the subject of New Light, and it 
appears that the mason entertained somewhat strong views both 
as to the bard's heterodoxy and his morals. Burns, passing along 
the street of the village one evening, and seeing Humphry 
lounging at a corner, stopped for a moment, and asked him what 
news. ' Oh, nothing Very particular on earth,' answered the 
polemic ; ' but there 's strange news from below.'' ' Ah, what's that? ' 
inquired Burns, opening his eyes pretty wide. ' Why, they say 
that the auld deil has died lately, and that when the imps met to 
elect a successor, they fell sadly by the ears. Some of them were 
for taking one of their own number ; but others had heard that 
there was one Rob Burns upon earth, that was likely to make a 
much better deil, and it seems they are determined, if they can, to 
elect Mm ! ' The poet, though he could not have helped being 

1 Mr John Wilson, the printer of his poems at Kilmarnock. 



VERSICLES. 237 

amused with the insinuation, left Humphry with a pettish excla- 
mation. He afterwards penned a quatrain on Humphry, which, it 
must be admitted, contains not merely less wit than his antagonist's 
story of the infernal election, but no wit at all : 

ON A NOISY POLEMIC. 

Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes : 

O Death, it's my opinion, 
Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin' bitch 

Into thy dark dominion.' 

Humphry, nevertheless, lived to be in such poverty, as to be glad 
to claim being the subject of the satire of Burns, for the sake of 
the scraps of charity which it obtained for him. 1 



EPITAPH ON A HEN-PECKED COUNTRY SQUIRE. 

As Father Adam first was fooled, 

A case that's still too common- 
Here lies a man a woman ruled, 
The devil ruled the woman. 



EPIGRAM ON SAID OCCASION. 

O Death, hadst thou but spared his life, 

Whom we this day lament! 
"We freely wad exchanged the wife, 

And a' been weel content. 

E'en as he is, cauld in his grafF, 

The swap we yet will do 't; exchange 

Tak thou the carline's carcass aflf, 

Thou'se get the saul to boot. 

1 Poor Humphry latterly found shelter in one of a set of free cottages built at 
Blackhill, in Torbolton parish, by the late Mr Cooper of Smithston, enjoying 
at the same time a pension of 3s. a week from a fund left by the same bene- 
volent gentleman. He died in 1844, at the age of eighty-six. To the last, he took 
a keen interest in matters pertaining to theological and ecclesiastical disputes. 
The parish minister called for him when he was near his end, and, after a prayer, 
took leave of him without any expectation of again seeing him in life. Humphry 
seemed to have something on his mind— he waved the minister back, and said : 
' Man, what d' ye think o' the Frees ? ' Such, in the crisis of the Disruption, was 
the man who had battled with Burns on points respecting the New Light sixty years 
before. 

In his early days, he was a member of a dissenting congregation at Mauchline, 
and of course had seats in the meeting-house. He had often offended by his over- 
free life, and been warned : at length, energetic measures were determined on, and 
he was forbidden to approach the communion-table. Hereupon Humphry sent 
the bellman through the town, to proclaim ' Seats in the meeting-house to be had 
cheap— cheap— cheap as dirt— apply to James Humphry ! ' This gives some idea 
of the man. 



238 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



ANOTHER. 

One Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell, 
When deprived of her husband she loved so well, 
In respect for the love and affection he shewed her, 
She reduced him to dust, and she drank off the powder. 

But Queen Netherplace, of a different complexion, 
When called on to order the funeral direction, 
Would have ate her dead lord, on a slender pretence, 
Not to shew her respect, but — to save the expense! 



TAM THE CHAPMAN. 

As Tarn the Chapman on a day 

Wi' Death forgathered by the way, 

Weel pleased, he greets a wight sae famous, 

And Death was nae less pleased wi' Thamas, 

Wha cheerfully lays down his pack, 

And there blaws up a hearty crack ; 

His social, friendly, honest heart 

Sae tickled Death, they couldna part : 

Sae, after viewing knives and garters, 

Death taks him hame to gie him quarters. 

Tam the Chapman was a person named Kennedy, whom Burns 
had known in boyhood, and whom he afterwards encountered as 
an itinerant merchant, when he found him a pleasant companion 
and estimable man. Tam, in old age, was known to William 
Cobbett, who printed these lines, either from a manuscript or 
from recollection. 



VERSES TO JOHN RANKINE. 

Ae day, as Death, that greusome carle, 
Was driving to the tither warl' 
A mixtie-maxtie, motley squad, 
And mony a guilt-bespotted lad ; 
Black gowns of each denomination, 
And thieves of every rank and station, 
From him that wears the star and garter, 
To him that wintles in a halter : 
Ashamed himsel' to see the wretches, 
He mutters, glowrin' at the bitches : 
* By G — , I '11 not be seen behint them, 
Nor 'mang the sp'ritual core present them, 



VERSICLES. 239 



Without, at least, ae honest man, 
To grace this d — d infernal clan.' 
By Adamhill a glance he threw, 
* L — G — ! ' quoth he, ' I have it now ; 
There's just the man I want, i' faith !' 
And quickly stoppit Rankine's breath. 



ON MISS J. SCOTT, OF AYR. 

Oh, had each Scot of ancient times, 
Been Jeany Scott, as thou art; 
The bravest heart on English ground, 
Had yielded like a coward. 






the book-worms. 

* Burns, 1 says Allan Cunningham, ' on a visit to a nobleman, 
was shewn into the library, where stood a Shakspeare, splendidly 
bound, but unread, and much worm-eaten. Long after the poet's 
death, some one happened to open, accidentally perhaps, the same 
neglected book, and found this epigram in the handwriting of 
Bums:' 

Through and through th' inspired leaves, 

Ye maggots, make your windings ; 
But oh ! respect his lordship's taste, 

And spare the golden bindings. 



GRACES BEFORE MEAT. 

Some hae meat and canna eat, 

And some would eat that want it; 

But we hae meat and we can eat, 
Sae let the Lord be thankit. 



O Thou, who kindly dost provide 

For every creature's want! 
We bless Thee, God of Nature wide, 

For all thy goodness lent : 
And, if it please Thee, heavenly guide, 

May never worse be sent ; 
But whether granted or denied, 

Lord, bless us with content! Amen! 



240 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



Thou, in whom we live and move, 

Who mad'st the sea and shore ; 
Thy goodness constantly we prove, 

And grateful would adore. 
And if it please Thee, Power above, 

Still grant us, with such store, 
The friend we trust, the fair we love, 

And we desire no more. 



EXTEMPORANEOUS GRACE ON A HAGGIS. 

Ye powers wha gie us a' that's gude, 

Still bless auld Caledonia's brood, 

Wi' great John Barleycorn's heart's bluid, 

In stoups or luggies ; 
And on our board the king o' food, 

A glorious haggis ! 

It has been stated, that being present at a party where d haggis 
formed part of the entertainment, and being asked to say some- 
thing appropriate on the occasion, Burns produced this stanza by 
way of grace; which, being well received, he was induced to 
expand it into the poem entitled To a Haggis, retaining the verse 
in an altered form as a peroration. 



When Burns was in Edinburgh, he was introduced by a friend 
to the studio of a well-known painter, whom he found engaged on 
a representation of Jacob's dream; after minutely examining the 
work, he wrote the following verse on the back of a little sketch 
vhich is still preserved in the painter's family: — 

Dear , I'll gie ye some advice, 

You'll tak it no uncivil: 
You shouldna paint at angels mair, 

But try and paint the devil. 

To paint an angel's kittle wark, 
Wi' auld Nick there's less danger; 

You'll easy draw a weel-kent face, 

But no sae weel a stranger. R. B. 



VERSICLES. 241 

ON MR W. C It U I K SHANK, 

OP THE HIGH SCHOOL, EDINBURGH. 

Honest Will to heaven is gane, 

And mony shall lament him ; 
His faults they a' in Latin lay, 

In English nane e'er kent them. 



ON MR W. NICOL. 



Ye maggots, feed on Nicol's brain, 
For few sic feasts ye 've gotten ; 

You've got a prize o' "Willie's heart, 
For deil a bit o't's rotten. 



ON MR W. MICHIE, 

SCHOOLMASTER, CLEISH, FIFEJHIRE. 

Here lie Willie Miehie's banes ; 

O Satan, when ye tak him, 
Gie him the schoolin' o' your weans, 

For clever deils he'll mak 'em! 



ON MISS BURNS. 

Cease, ye prudes, your envious railings, 
Lovely Burns has charms, confess : 

True it is, she had one failing — 
Had a woman ever less ? 



WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH. 



A cauld, cauld day December blew, 
A cauld, cauld kirk, and in't but few; 
A caulder minister never spak, 
It's© be warmer weather ere I come back. 
VOL. IV. L 



242 LIFE AND WORKS OF BUENS. 



ON A FRIEND. 

An Honest man here lies at rest 
As e'er God with his image blest ! 
The friend of man, the friend of truth ; 
The friend of age, and guide of youth ; 

Few hearts like his, with virtue warmed, 
Few heads with knowledge so informed : 
If there's another world, he lives in bliss; 
If there is none, he made the best of this. 



HOWLET FACE. 

' One of the lords of Justiciary, when holding circuit at Dum- 
fries, dined one day with Mr Miller at Dalswinton. According 
to the custom of the times, the after-dinner libations were some- 
what copious; and, on entering the drawing-room, his lordship's 
visual organs were so much affected, that he asked Mr Miller, 
pointing to one of his daughters, who were reckoned remarkably 
handsome women, " Wha's yon howlet-faced thing in the corner?" 

' Next day, Burns, who then resided at Eilisland, happened to 
be a guest at Dalswinton, and, in the course of conversation, his 
lordship's very ungallant and unjust remark was mentioned to 
] He immediately took from his pocket an old letter, on the 

back of which he wrote in pencil the following lines, and handed 
them to Miss Miller: — 

How daur ye ca' me howlet-faced, 

Ye ugly, glowering spectre ? 
My face was but the keekin' glass, 

An' there ye saw your picture.' 

Correspondent. 



THE SOLEMN LEAGUE AND COVENANT. 

[Spoken in reply to a gentleman who sneered at the sufferings of Scotland for 
conscience' sake, and called the Solemn League and Covenant ridiculous and 
fanatical.] 

The Solemn League and Covenant 

Cost Scotland blood — cost Scotland tears;. 

But it sealed freedom's sacred cause — 
If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneers. 



VERSICLES. 243 



ON A CERTAIN PARSON'S LOOKS. 



That there is falsehood in his looks 

I must and will deny ; 
They say their master is a knave — 

And sure they do not lie. 



WILLIE STEWART. 

' Sir Walter Scott possesses a tumbler, on which are the follow- 
ing verses, written by Burns on the arrival of a friend, Mr W. 
Stewart, factor to a gentleman of Nithsdale. The landlady being 
very wroth at what she considered the disfigurement of her glass, 
a gentleman present appeased her by paying down a shilling, and 
carried off the relic.' — Lockhart. 

You're welcome, "Willie Stewart; 

You're welcome, Willie Stewart; 
There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May, 

That's half sae welcome's thou art. 

Come, bumpers high, express your joy, 

The bowl we maun renew it ; 
The tappit-hen, 1 gae bring her ben, 

To welcome Willie Stewart. 

May foes be Strang, and friends be slack, 

Ilk action may he rue it ; 
May woman on him turn her back, 

That wrangs thee, Willie Stewart ! 



ANDREW TURNER. 

Being called impertinently one evening from a party of friends 
at the King's Arms, Dumfries, to see a vain coxcomb in the form 
of an English commercial traveller, who, having a bottle of wine 
on his table, thought he might patronise the Ayrshire Plovf/Jnnan, 
Burns entered into conversation with the creature, and soon 
saw what sort of person he had to deal with. About to leave 
the room, Burns was urged to give a taste of his powers of 

1 'A cant phrase denoting a tin measure, containing a quart, so called from tho 
knob on the lid, supposed to resemble a crested hen.'— Jumusun. 



&44 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

impromptu versifying before he went, when, having asked the 
stranger's name and age, he instantly penned and handed to him 
the stanza which follows — after which he abruptly departed. 

In seventeen hundred forty-nine, 
Satan took stuff to make a swine, 

And cuist it in a corner ; 
But wilily he changed his plan, 
And shaped it something like a man, 

And ca'd it Andrew Turner 1 



VERSES TO JOHN M'MURDO, ESQ. 

WITH A PRESENT OF BOOKS. 

Oh, could I give thee India's wealth, 

As I this trifle send, 
Because thy joy in both would be 

To share them with a friend ! 

But golden sands did never grace 

The Heliconean stream ; 
Then take what gold could never buy — 

An honest Bard's esteem. 

[Mr M'Murdo resided at Drumlanrig, as chamberlain to the Duke of Queensberry. 
He and his wife and daughters are alluded to in the election piece entitled Second 
Epistle to Mr Graham of Fintry. They were kind and hospitable friends of Burns, 
who celebrated several of the young ladies in his songs. 1 ] 



ON MR M'MURDO. 

INSCRIBED ON A PANE OP GLASS IN HIS HOUSE. 

Blest be M'Murdo to his latest day ! 
No envious cloud o'ercast his evening ray ; 
No wrinkle furrowed by the hand of care, 
Nor ever sorrow add one silver hair ! 
Oh, may no son the father's honour stain, 
Nor ever daughter give the mother pain ! 



WRITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE GLOBE TAVERN, DUMFRIES. 

The graybeard, old Wisdom, may boast of his treasures, 

Give me with gay Folly to live; 
I grant him his calm-blooded, time-settled pleasures, 

But Folly has raptures to give. 



VERSICLES. 245 



EXCISEMEN UNIVERSAL. 

WRITTEN ON A WINDOW. 1 

Ye men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering 
'Gainst poor excisemen ? give the cause a hearing. 
What are your landlords' rent-rolls ? teasing ledgers : 
What premiers — what ? even monarchs' mighty gaugers 
Nay, what are priests, those seeming godly wise men ? 
What are they, pray, but spiritual excisemen ? 



ON A GROTTO IN FRIARS' CARSE GROUNDS. 

To Kiddel, much-lamented man, 

This ivied cot was dear ; 
Reader, dost value matchless worth ? 

This ivied cot revere. 



ON A NOTED COXCOMB. 

Light lay the earth on Billy's breast, 
His chicken heart's so tender ; 

But build a castle on his head, 
His skull will prop it under. 



ON COMMISSARY GOLDIE S BRAINS. 

Lord, to account who dares thee call, 
Or e'er dispute thy pleasure ? 

Else why within so thick a wall 
Enclose so poor a treasure ? 2 



EPITAPH ON MR GABRIEL RICHARDSON, BREWER, DUMFRIES. 3 

Here brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct, 

And empty all his barrels ; 
He's blest if as he brewed he drink, 

In upright honest morals. 

1 In the King's Arms Inn, Dumfries, in consequence of overhearing a gentleman 
speak despitefully of the officers of Excise. 

2 From a hlank leaf of a copy of Burns's works, in possession of Mrs Lindsay, 
48 Albany Street, Edinburgh. 

3 Father of Sir John Richardson, the arctic traveller. 



246 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



ON JOHN BUSHBY, WRITER, DUMFRIES. 



Here lies John Bushby, honest man ! 
Cheat him, devil, if you can. 



TO MISS JESSY LEWARS. 

WITH A PRESENT OF BOOKS. 

Thine be the volumes, Jessy fair, 
And with them take the Poet's prayer- 
That Fate may in her fairest page, 
"With every kindliest, best presage 
Of future bliss, enrol thy name : 
"With native worth, and spotless fame, 
And wakeful caution still aware 
Of ill — but chief, man's felon snare ; 
All blameless joys on earth we find, 
And all the treasures of the mind — 
These be thy guardian and reward ; 
Bo prays thy faithful friend, the Bard. 



THE EARL OF GALLOWAY. 

Burns had an antipathy of old-standing towards the Earl of 
Galloway. It was against him that he launched invectives 
when Mr Syme pointed to Garlies House, across the Bay of 
Wigton, in the course of their excursion in July 1793. There 
is a string of epigrams which the irascible bard launched at 
this respectable nobleman, with of course no other effect than 
to make moderate-minded men lament his own subordination 
of judgment to spleen. 

"What dost thou in that mansion fair ? — 

Flit, Galloway, and find 
Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave, 

The picture of thy mind ! 



No Stewart art thou, Galloway, 
The Stewarts all were brave ; 

Besides, the Stewarts were but fools, 
Not one of them a knave. 



versicles. 247 s 

Bright ran thy line, Galloway, 

Through many a far-famed sire ! 
So ran the far-famed Roman way, 

So ended in a mire. 

On being informed [misinformed ?] that the earl threatened him 
with his resentment — 

Spare me thy vengeance, Galloway ; 

In quiet let me live : 
I ask no kindness at thy hand, 

For thou hast none to give. 

It may be curious to contrast with these ungracious and sub- 
stantially unjust quatrains, the newspaper character of the earl at 
his death in 1806. ' His loss will be extensively and deeply felt; 
his numerous friends and connections profited by his advice and 
assistance ; his active frame and mind he never spared; he did 
nothing by halves. As a husband and father, he was exemplary; 
as a friend, indefatigable; he adored the Supreme Being; he loved 
his king ; his affairs prospered. He was admired for his taste 
in music ; and had great skill in agricultural pursuits.' For once, 
a friendly obituary notice may be accepted in evidence ; it was 
at least nearer the truth than Burns' s election lampoons and 
epigrams. 



SONGS OF WHICH THE DATE IS NOT KNOWA. 



CALEDONIA. 

Tune — Caledonian Hunfs Delight. 



There was once a day — but old Time then was young — 

That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line, 
From some of your northern deities sprung 

(Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine?) 
From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain, 

To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would : 
Her heavenly relations there fixed her reign, 

And pledged her their godheads to warrant it good. 

A lambkin in peace, but a lion in war, 

The pride of her kindred the heroine grew : 
Her grandsire, old Odin, triumphantly swore, 

' Whoe'er shall provoke thee, th' encounter shall rue ! ' 
With tillage or pasture at times she would sport, 

To feed her fair flocks by her green rustling corn ; 
But chiefly the woods were her fav'rite resort, 

Her darling amusement the hounds and the horn. 

Long quiet she reigned ; till thitherward steers 

A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand : 
Repeated, successive, for many long years, 

They darkened the air, and they plundered the land ; 
Their pounces were murder, and terror their cry, 

They'd conquered and ruined a world beside; 
She took to her hills, and her arrows let fly — 

The daring invaders they fled or they died. 

The fell harpy-raven took wing from the north, 

The scourge of the seas, and the dread of the shore ; 
The wild Scandinavian boar issued forth 

To wanton in carnage, and wallow in gore : 
O'er countries and kingdoms their fury prevailed, 

No arts could appease them, no arms could repel ; 
But brave Caledonia in vain they assailed, 

As Largs well can witness, and Loncartie tell. 



SONGS OP WHICH DATE IS NOT KNOWN. 249 

The Cameleon-savage disturbed her repose, 

With tumult, disquiet, rebellion, and strife ; 
Provoked beyond bearing, at last she arose, 

And robbed him at once of his hopes and his life : 
The Anglian lion, the terror of France, 

Oft prowling, ensanguined the Tweed's silver flood : 
But, taught by the bright Caledonian lance, 

He learned to fear in his own native wood. 

Thus bold, independent, unconquered, and free, 

Her bright course of glory for ever shall run : 
For brave Caledonia immortal must be ; 

I '11 prove it from Euclid as clear as the sun : 
Kectangle-triangle the figure we'll choose, 

The upright is Chance, and old Time is the base; 
But brave Caledonia 's the hypothenuse ; 

Then ergo, she '11 match them, and match them alwaya. 



O WHA IS SHE THAT LOES ME? 
Tune — Morag. 

O wha is she that loes me, 

And has my heart a keeping ? 
O sweet is she that loes me, 
As dews o' simmer weeping, 
In tears the rose-buds steeping ! 
O that's the lassie o' my heart, 

My lassie ever dearer ; 
O that's the queen o' womankind, 
And ne'er a ane to peer her. 

If thou shalt meet a lassie 

In grace and beauty charming, 

That e'en thy chosen lassie, 

Erewhile thy breast sae warming, 
Had ne'er sic powers alarming ; 
O that's the lassie, &c. 

If thou hadst heard her talking, 
And thy attentions plighted, 

That ilka body talking, 

But her by thee is slighted, 

And thou art all delighted ; 

O that's the lassie, &c. 



250 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

If thou hast met this fair one ; 

When frae her thou hast parted, 
If every other fair one, 

But her, thou hast deserted, 
And thou art broken-hearted ; 
that 's the lassie o' my heart, 

My lassie ever dearer ; 
O that's the queen o' womankind, 
And ne'er a ane to peer her. 



OLD SONGS IMPROVED BY BURNS, 

FROM JOHNSON'S MUSEUM. 



O WHARE DID YOU GET? 

Tune— Bonnie Dundee. 

[The air of Bonnie Dundee appears in the Skene MS., of date circa 1620. The 
tune seems to have existed at even an earlier period, as there is a song to it 
amongst those which were written by the English to disparage the Scottish 
followers by whom James VI. was attended on his arrival in the south. The first 
of the following verses is from an old homely ditty, the second only being the 
composition of Burns.] 

whare did you get that hauver meal bannock ? 
silly blind body, dinna ye see ? 

1 gat it frae a brisk young sodger laddie, 
Between St Johnston and bonnie Dundee. 

O gin I saw the laddie that gae me't ! 

Aft has he doudled me upon his knee ; 
May Heaven protect my bonnie Scots laddie, 

And send him safe hame to his babie and me ! 

My blessin's upon thy sweet wee lippie, 

My blessin's upon thy bonnie ee-bree! 
Thy smiles are sae like my blithe sodger laddie, 

Thou 's aye the dearer and dearer to me ! 
But I'll biga bower on yon bonnie banks, 

Where Tay rins wimplin' by sae clear ; 
And I'll deed thee in the tartan sae fine, 

And mak thee a man like thy daddie dear. 



I AM MY MAMMY'S AE BAIRN. 

Tune— I'm owre young to Marry yet. 

I am my mammy's ae bairn, 

Wi' unco folk I weary, sir ; 
And if I gang to your house, 

I'm fiey'd 'twill make me eerie, sir. atraid 

I'm owre young to marry yet; 

I'm owre young to marry yet ; 
I 'm owre young — 'twad be a sin 
To tak me frae my mammy yet. 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Hallowmas is come and gane, 

The nights are lang in winter, sir ; 
And you and I in wedlock's bands, 

In troth, I dare na venture, sir. 
Fu' loud and shrill the frosty wind 

Blaws through the leafless timmer, sir ; 
But if ye come this gate again, 

I'll aulder be gin simmer, sir. 



UP IN THE MORNING EARLY. 

Tune— Co Id blows the Wind. 
[Written on the basis of an old song, the chorus of which is here preserved.] 

CHORUS. 

Up in the morning's no for me, 

Up in the morning early ; 
"When a' the hills are covered wi' snaw, 

I'm sure it's winter fairly. 

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, 

The drift is driving sairly ; 
Sae loud and shrill I hear the blast, 

I'm sure it's winter fairly. 

The birds sit chittering in the thorn, 

A' day they fare but sparely ; 
And lang's the night frae e'en to morn — 

I 'm sure it's winter fairly. 



THERE WAS A LASS. 
Tune— Duncan Davison. 

There was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, 

And she held o'er the moors to spin ; 
There was a lad that followed her, 

They ca'd him Duncan Davison. 
The moor was dreigh, and Meg was skeigh, tedious timorow 

Her favour Duncan could na win ; 
For wi' the rock she wad him knock, 

And aye she shook the temper-pin. 

As o'er the moor they lightly foor, went 

A bum was clear, a glen was green, 
Upon the banks they eased their shanks, 

And aye she set the wheel between : 



SONGS IMPROVED. 253 

But Duncan swore a haly aith, 

That Meg should be a bride the morn, 
Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith, 

And flang them a' out o'er the burn. 

We '11 big a house — a wee, wee house, 

And we will live like king and queen, 
Sae blithe and merry we will be 

When ye set by the wheel at e'en. 
A man may drink and no be drunk ; 

A man may fight and no be slain ; 
A man may kiss a bonnie lass, 

And aye be welcome back again. 



LADY ONLIE. 

Tune— The Ruffian's Rant. 

A' the lads o' Thornie-bank, 

When they gae to the shore o' Bucky, 
They '11 step in and tak a pint 
Wi' Lady Onlie, honest Lucky ! 
Lady Onlie, honest Lucky ! 

Brews guid ale at shore o' Bucky ; 
I wish her sale for her guid ale, 
The best on a' the shore o' Bucky. 

Her house sae bien, her curch sae clean, 

I wat she is a dainty chucky ; 

And cheerlie blinks the ingle-gleed 

Of Lady Onlie, honest Lucky I 

Lady Onlie, honest Lucky ! 

Brews guid ale at shore o* Bucky ; 
I wish her sale for her guid ale, 
The best on a' the shore o' Bucky. 



THE PLOUGHMAN. 

The ploughman he's a bonnie lad, 

His mind is ever true, jo, 
His garters knit below his knee, 
His bonnet it is blue, jo. 

Then up wi't a', my ploughman lad, 
And hey my merry ploughman ; 
Of a' the trades that I do ken, 
Commend me to the ploughman. 



254 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

I hae been east, I hae been west, 
I hae been at St Johnston ; 

The bonniest sight that e'er I saw, 
Was the ploiighman laddie dancin*. 
Up wi't, &c. 



And siller buckles glancin' 
A guid blue bonnet on his head, 
And oh, but he was handsome. 
Up wi't, &c. 

[Of this piece, the two last verses alone are by Burns. For the longer song, 
Including them, reference may be made to the Museum.] 



MY HOGGIE. 

"What will I do gin my hoggie l die, 

My joy, my pride, my hoggie ? 
My only beast, I had nae mae, 

And oh, but I was vogie. va ;n 

The lee-lang night we watched the fauld, 

Me and my faithfu' doggie, 
We heard nought but the roaring linn, 

Amang the braes sae scroggie. 2 

But the howlet cried frae the castle wa', 

The blutter frae the boggie, mire-snipe 

The tod replied upon the hill — fox 

I trembled for my hoggie. 

When day did daw and cocks did craw, 

The morning it was foggie, 
An unco tyke lap o'er the dyke, dog 

And maist has killed my hoggie. 



simmer's a pleasant time 
Tuhe— Aye Waukin 0. 

Simmer's a pleasant time, 

Flowers of every colour ; 
The water rins o'er the heugh, 

And I long for my true lover. 

1 ' Hoggie, a young sheep after it is smeared, and before it is firsfr shorn. 
Stenhouse. 

2 Full of stunted bushes. 



SONGS IMPEOVED. 266 

Aye waukin 0, 

Waukin still and wearie : 
Sleep I can get nane 

For thinking on my dearie. 

When I sleep I dream, 

When I wauk I'm eerie: timorous 

Sleep I can get nane 

For thinking on my dearie. 

Lanely night comes on, 

A' the lave are sleeping; rest 

I think on my bonnie lad, 

And bleer my een wi' greetin'. 

[This is an old song, upon which Burns appears to have made only a few 
alterations.] 



FIRST WHEN MAGGY WAS MY CARE. 

Tune— Whistle o'er the Lave o 't. 

First when Maggy was my care, 

Heaven I thought was in her air ; 

Now we're married — speir nae mair — inquire 

Whistle o'er the lave o't. 
Meg was meek, and Meg was mild, 
Bonnie Meg was nature's child ; 
Wiser men than me's beguiled — • 

Whistle o'er the lave o 't. 

How we live, my Meg and me, 
How we love, and how we 'gree, 
I care na by how few may see — 

Whistle o'er the lave o't. 
Wha I wish were maggots' meat, 
Dished up in her winding-sheet, 
I could write — but Meg maun see't — 

Whistle o'er the lave o't. 



JAMIE, COME TRY ME. 

Jamie, come try me ; 

Jamie, come try me ; 
If thou would win my love, 

Jamie, come try me. 



256 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

If thou should ask my love, 
Could I deny thee ? 

If thou would win my love, 
Jamie, come try me. 

If thou should kiss me, love, 
Wha could espy thee ? 

If thou would be my love, 
Jamie, come try me. 



AW A, WHIGS, AWA! 

Tune— Awa, Whigs, awa. 

CHORUS. 

Awa, Whigs, awa ! 

Awa, Whigs, awa ! 
Ye 're but a pack o' traitor louns, 

Ye '11 do nae good at a'. 

Our thrissles flourished fresh and fair, 

And bonnie bloomed our roses ; 
But Whigs came like a frost in June, 

And withered a' our posies. 

Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust — 

Deil blin' them wi' the stour o't; 
And write their names in his black beuk, 

Wha gae the Whigs the power o't. 

Our sad decay in Church and State 

Surpasses my descriving ; 
The Whigs came o'er us for. a curse, 

And we hae done wi' thriving. 

Grim vengeance lang has ta'en a nap, 

But we may see him wauken ; 
Guid help the day when royal heads 

Are hunted like a maukin. hare 

[The second and last stanzas alone are by Burns; the rest is from an old 
Jacobite song.] 



WHARE HAE YE BEEN? 

Tune — Killiecrarikie. 

Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad ? 

Where hae ye been sae brankie, ? pranked 
Oh, whare hae ye been sae braw, lad ? 
Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O ? 



SONGS IMPROVED. 257 

An ye had been whare I hae been, 

Ye wad na been sae cantie, ; merry 

An ye had seen what I hae seen, 
On the braes of Killiecrankie, O. 

I fought at land, I fought at sea ; 

At name I fought my auntie, ; 
But I met the devil and Dundee, 

On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O. 
The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr, 

And Clavers got a clankie, O j 
Or I had fed an Athole gled, kite 

On the braes o' Killiecrankie, 0. 

£ The chorus of this song is old; the rest of it was written by Burns.'— Stenhottse.' 



ca' the ewes to the knowes. 

Ca' the ewes to the knowes, 
Ca' them where the heather grows, 
Ca' them where the burnie rows, 
My bonnie dearie. 

As I gaed down the water-side, 
There I met my shepherd lad, 
He rowed me sweetly in his plaid, 
And he ca'd me his dearie. 

Will ye gang down the water-side, 
And see the waves sae sweetly glide ? 
Beneath the hazel spreading wide, 
The moon it shines fu' clearly. 

[Ye sail get gowns and ribbons meet, 
Cauf leather shoon upon your feet, 
And in my arms ye 'se lie and sleep, 
And ye sail be my dearie. 

If ye but stand to what ye've said, 
I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad, 
And ye may row me in your plaid, 
And I sail be your dearie.] 

While waters wimple to the sea, 
While day blinks in the lift sae hie, 
Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my ee, 
Ye sail be my dearie. 

[The verses within brackets are old, with only a few touches of improvement by 
Burns.] 



258 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURKS. 



FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT. 

Though women's minds, like winter winds, 

May shift and turn, and a' that; 
The noblest breast adores them maist, 
A consequence I draw that. 
For a' that, and a' that, 

And twice as mickle's a' that, 
The bonnie lass that I loe best, 
Shall be my ain for a' that, &c. 



YOUNG JOCKEY. 

Tuxe— Young Jockey. 

Young Jockey was the blithest lad 

In a' our town or here awa : 
Fu' blithe he whistled at the gaud, 

Fu' lightly danced he in the ha'. 
He roosed my een, sae bonnie blue, praised 

He roosed my waist, sae genty sma' ; 
And aye my heart came to my mou', 

When ne'er a body heard or saw. 

My Jockey toils upon the plain, 

Through wind and weet, through frost and snaw : 
And o'er the lea I leuk fu' fain, 

When Jockey's owsen hameward ca\ 
And aye the night comes round again, 

When in his arms he takes me a' ; 
And aye he vows he'll be my ain, 

As lang's he has a breath to draw. 

[' The whole of [this song], excepting three or four lines, is the production of 
Burns.'— Stenhouse.~\ 



WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR? 
Tune— Lass, an J come near thee. 

Wha is that at my bower door I 

O wha is it but Findlay : 
Then gae your gate, ye 's nae be here ! 

Indeed maun I, qu»' Findlay. 
What mak ye, sae like a thief ? 

O come and see, quo' Findlay. 
Before the morn ye '11 work mischief; 

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. 



SONGS IMPKOVED. 259 

Gif I rise and let you in ; 

Let me in, quo' Findlay : 
Ye '11 keep me waukin' wi' your din; 

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. 
In my bower if ye should stay ; 

Let me stay, quo' Findlay : 
I fear ye '11 bide till break o' day ; 

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. 

Here this night if ye remain ; 

I'll remain, quo' Findlay: 
I dread ye '11 learn the gate again; 

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. 
What may pass within this bower; 

Let it pass, quo' Findlay : 
Ye maun conceal till your last hour ; 

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. 

['Mr Gilbert Burns told the editor (Cromek) that this song was suggested to his 
brother by the Auld Man's Address to the Widow, printed in Ramsay's Tea-Table 
Miscellany, which the poet first heard sung by Jean Wilson, a silly old widow- 
woman, then living at Torbolton, remarkable for the simplicity and naivete of her 
character, and for singing old Scotch songs with a peculiar energy and earnestness 
of manner. Having outlived her family, she still retained the form of family 
worship ; and before she sang a hymn, she would gravely give out the first line of 
the verse, as if she had a numerous audience, to the great diversion of her listening 
neighbours.' —Cromek.] 



THE TITHER MORN. 

To a Highland air. 

The tither morn, when I forlorn 

Aneath an aik sat moaning, 
I did na trow, I'd see my jo, 

Beside me, 'gain the gloaming. 
But he sae trig, lap o'er the rig, 

And dawtingly did cheer me, 
When I, what reck, did least expec', 

To see my lad so near me. 

His bonnet he, a thought ajee, 

Cocked sprush when first he clasped me : 
And I, I wat, wi' fainness grat, 

While in his grips he pressed me. 
Deil tak the war ! I late and air, 

Hae wished, since Jock departed; 
But now as glad I'm wi' my lad, 

As short syne broken-hearted. 



260 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Fu' aft at e'en wi' dancing keen, 

When a' were blithe and merry, 
I cared na by, sae sad was I, 

In absence o' my dearie. 
But, praise be blest, my mind's at rest, 

I'm happy wi' my Johnny : 
At kirk and fair, I'se aye be there, 

And be as canty 's ony. 



AS I WAS A WANDERING. 

Tune — Rinn Meudial mo Mhcalladh. 

As I was a wandering ae midsummer e'enin', 

The pipers and youngsters were making their game ; 
Amang them I spied my faithless fause lover, 
Which bled a' the wounds o' my dolour again. 

Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi' him; 

I may be distressed, but I winna complain ; 
I flatter my fancy I may get anither, 

My heart it shall never be broken for ane. 

I couldna get sleeping till dawin for greetin', 

The tears trickled down like the hail and the rain : 

Had I na got greetin', my heart wad ha' broken, 
For oh! love forsaken 's a tormenting pain. 

Although he has left me for greed o' the siller, 

I dinna envy him the gains he can win j 
I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow 

Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him. 

[Burns has here merely made some changes upon an old song, and it is ques- 
tionable if his alterations are improvements.] 



THE WEARY PUND O' TOW. 

Tune — The Weary Pund o' Tow. 

The weary pund, the weary pund, 
The weary pund o' tow ; 

I think my wife will end her life 
Before she spin her tow. 

I bought my wife a stane o' lint 
As guid as e'er did grow ; 

And a' that she has made o' that, 
Is ae poor pund o' tow. 



SONGS IMPROVED. 2C1 

There sat a bottle in a bole, 

Beyont the ingle lowe, 
And aye she took the tither souk, 

To drouk the stowrie tow. 

Quoth I, for shame, ye dirty dame, 

Gae spin your tap o' tow ! 
She took the rock, and wi' a knock 

She brak it o'er my pow. 

At last her feet — I sang to see't — 

Gaed foremost o'er the knowe ; 
And or I wad anither jad, 

I'll wallop in a tow. 



GANE IS THE DAY. 

Tune— Guidwife, count the Lawin. 

Gane is the day, and mirk's the night, 
But we '11 ne'er stray for fau't o' light, 
For ale and brandy's stars and moon, 
And bluid-red wine's the rising sun. 
Then guidwife, count the lawin, 

The lawin, the lawin ; 
Then guidwife, count the lawin, 
And bring a coggie mair. 

There 's wealth and ease for gentlemen, 
And simple folk maun fight and fen ; 
But here we're a' in ae accord, 
For ilka man that's drunk's a lord. 

My coggie is a haly pool, 

That heals the wounds o' care and dool ; 

And pleasure is a wanton trout, 

An ye drink but deep ye '11 find him out. 



IT IS NA, JEAN, THY BONNIE FACE. 

Tune — The Maid's Complaint. 

It is na, Jean, thy bonnic face 

Nor shape that I admire, 
Although thy beauty and thy grace 

Miffht wed awake desire. 



262 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 

Something, in ilka part o' thee, 
To praise, to love, I find ; 

But dear as is thy form to me, 
Still dearer is thy mind. 

Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae, 

Nor stronger in my breast, 
Than if I canna mak thee sae, 

At least to see thee blest. 
Content am I, if Heaven shall give 

But happiness to thee : 
And as wi' thee I'd wish to live, 

For thee I'd bear to die. 



MY COLLIER LADDIE. 

TxraE— The Collier Laddie. 

Where live ye, my bonnie lass ? 

And tell me what they ca' ye ; 
My name, she says, is Mistress Jean, 

And I follow the Collier Laddie. 

See you not yon hills and dales, 

The sun shines on sae brawlie ! 
They a' are mine, and they shall be thine, 

Gin ye '11 leave your Collier Laddie. 

Ye shall gang in gay attire, 

Weel buskit up sae gaudy ; 
And ane to wait on every hand, 

Gin ye '11 leave your Collier Laddie. 

Though ye had a' the sun shines on, 

And the earth conceals sae lowly ; 
I wad turn my back on you and it a', 

And embrace my Collier Laddie. 

I can win my five pennies in a day, 

And spen't at night fu' brawlie; 
And make my bed in the Collier's neuk, 

And lie down wi' my Collier Laddie. 

Luve for luve is the bargain for me, 

Though the wee cot-house should haud me ; 

And the world before me to win my bread, 
And fair fa' my Collier Laddie. 

[Burns, in his Notes, speaks of this song as an old one with which he had had 
nothing to do. As it appears, however, in no other collection, and is found in 
his handwriting among Johnson's manuscripts, Mr Stenhouse infers that the 
greater part of it i3 his own composition.] 



SONGS IMPROVED. 263 



YE JACOBITES BY NAME. 

Tune— Ye Jacobites by Name. • 

Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear; 
Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear ; 
Ye Jacobites by name, 

Your fautes I will proclaim, 

Your doctrines I maun blame — 
You shall hear. 

What is right and what is wrang by the law, by the la-vr ? 
What is right and what is wrang by the law \ 
What is right and what is wrang ? 
A short sword and a lang, 
A weak arm, and a Strang 
For to draw. 

What makes heroic strife famed afar, famed afar? 
What makes heroic strife famed afar ? 
What makes heroic strife ? 
To whet th' assassin's knife, 
Or hunt a parent's life 
Wi' bluidie war. 

Then let your schemes alone in the state, in the state ; 
Then let your schemes alone in the state ; 
Then let your schemes alone 
Adore the rising sun, 

And leave a man undone 
To his fate. 



LADY MARY ANN. 
TinrE—Craigton's Groiving. 
['Modelled by Burns from an ancient ballad, entitled Craigton's Growing.*". 
Stenhouse.2 

Oh, Lady Mary Ann looked o'er the castle wa' ; 
She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba' ; 
The youngest he was the flower amang them a' — 
My bonnie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet. 

O father ! father ! an ye think it fit, 
We'll send him a year to the college yet: 
We'll sew a green ribbon round about his hat, 
And that will let them ken he's to marry yet. 

Lady Mary Ann was a flower i' the dew, 
Sweet was its smell, and bonnie was its hue; 
And the langer it blossomed the sweeter it grew : 
. For the lily in the bud will be bonnier yet. 



264 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Young Charlie Cochrane was the sprout of an aik ; 
Bonnie and bloomin' and straught was its make : 
• The sun took delight to shine for its sake, 
And it will be the brag o' the forest yet. 

The simmer is gane when the leaves they were green, 
And the days are awa that we hae seen ; 
But far better days I trust will come again, 

For my bonnie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet. 



KENMURE'S ON AND AWA. 
Tune— Kenmure's on and awa, Willie, 
O Kenmure 's on and awa, Willie ! 

O Kenmure's on and awa ! 
And Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord 
That ever Galloway saw. 

Success to Kenmure's band, "Willie ! 

Success to Kenmure's band; 
There 's no a heart that fears a "Whig 

That rides by Kenmure's hand. 

Here 's Kenmure's health in wine, "Willie ! 

Here's Kenmure's health in wine; 
There ne'er was a coward o' Kenmure's blude, 

Nor yet o' Gordon's line. 

O Kenmure's lads are men, "Willie ! 

O Kenmure's lads are men ; 
Their hearts and swords are metal true — 

And that their faes shall ken. 

They'll live or die wi' fame, "Willie ! 

They'll live or die wi' fame; 
But soon, wi' sounding victorie, 

May Kenmure's lord come hame. 

Here's him that's far awa, Willie ! 

Here's him that's far awa! 
And here's the flower that I love best — 

The rose that's like the snaw ! 

[This song is supposed to be one of those which Burns only improved from old 
versions. William Gordon, sixth Viscount of Kenmure, raised a body of troops 
for the Pretender in 1715, and had the chief command of the insurgent forces in 
the south of Scotland. Taken at Preston, he was tried and condemned to be 
beheaded, which sentence was executed on the 24th February 1716. His forfeited 
estate was bought back by his widow, and transmitted to their son. By the son of 
that son— afterwards Viscount of Kenmure in consequence of the restoration of 
the title— Burns was on one occasion entertained at his romantic seat of Kenmuye 
Castle, near New Galloway.] 



SONGS IMPROVED. 265 

SUCH A PARCEL OF ROGUES IN A NATION - . 

Tune — A Parcel of Rogues in a Nation, 

Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame, 

Fareweel our ancient glory, 
Fareweel even to the Scottish name, 

Sae famed in martial story. 
Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands, 

And Tweed rins to the ocean, 
To mark where England's province stands—" 

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation. 

"What force or guile could not subdue 

Through many warlike ages, 
Is wrought now by a coward few, 

For hireling traitors' wages. 
The English steel we could disdain, 

Secure in valour's station ; 
But English gold has been our bane — 

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation. 

O would, ere I had seen the day 

That treason thus could fell us, 
My auld gray head had lien in clay, 

Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace! 
But pith and power, till my last hour, 

I'll mak this declaration; 
We're bought and sold for English gold— * 

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation. 



THE CARLES OF DYSART. 

Tune— Hey, ca' through. 

[Written upon the basis of an old song.] 

Up wi' the carles o' Dysart, 

And the lads o' Buckhaven, 
And the kimmers o' Largo, 
And the lasses o' Leven. 

Hey, ca' through, ca' through, 

For we hae mickle ado ; 

Hey, ca' through, ca' through, 

For we hae mickle ado. 

We liac talcs to tell, 

And Ave hae Bangs to suur ; 
We hae pennies to spend, 
And we hae pints to bring. 
IV. M 



266 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

"We'll live a' our days, 

And them that come behin', 

Let them do the like, 

And spend the gear they win. 



THE CARLE OF KELLYBURN BRAES. 

TvvtE—Kettybiirn Braes. 

[An old set of traditionary verses modified by Burns.] 

There lived a carle on Kellyburn Braes, 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 

And he had a wife was the plague o' his days ; 

And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime. 

Ae day as the carle gaed up the lang glen, 
(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 

He met wi' the devil; says, ' How do you fen?' 
And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime. 

•I've got a bad wife, sir; that's a' my complaint; 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 
For, saving your presence, to her ye 're a saint: 

And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.' 

'It's neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave, 
(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 

But gie me your wife, man, for her I must have, 
And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.' 

' O welcome, most kindly,' the blithe carle said, 
(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 

4 But if ye can match her, ye 're waur than ye 're ca'd, 
And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.' 

The devil has got the auld wife on his back ; 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 
And, like a poor pedler, he's carried his pack; 

And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime. 

He's carried her hame to his ain hallan-door; 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 
Syne bade her gae in, for a b and a , 

And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime. 

Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band, 
(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 

Turn out on her guard in the clap of a hand ; 

And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime. 



son as IMPROVED. 267 

The carline gaed through them like ony wud bear, 
(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 

Whae'er she gat hands on cam near her nae mair ; 
And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime. 

A reekit wee devil looks over the wa' ; 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 

* Oh, help, master, help, or she '11 ruin us a', 

And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.' 

The devil he swore by the edge o' his knife, 
(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 

He pitied the man that was tied to a wife ; 

And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prjme. 

The devil he swore by the kirk and the bell, 
(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 

He was not in wedlock, thank Heaven, but in hell; 
And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime. 

Then Satan has travelled again wi' his pack ; 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 
And to her auld husband he's carried her back; 

And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime. 

* I hae been a devil the feck o' my life ; 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme,) 
But ne'er was in hell till I met wi' a wife ; 

And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.' 



JOCKY FOU AND JENNY FAIN. 



Let love sparkle in her ee, 
Let her loe nae man but me ; 
That 's the tocher gude 1 prize, 
There the lover's treasure lies. 

[The above verse was thrown by Burns into a song by Ramsay.] 



THE SLAVE'S LAMENT. 

It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral, 

For the lands of Virginia, O ; 
Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more, 

And alas I am weary, weary, ! 



268 LIFE AND WORKS OP BUENS. 

All on that charming coast is no bitter snow or frosfl, 

Like the lands of Virginia, ; 
There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow, 

And alas I am weary, weary, ! 

The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear, 

In the lands of Virginia, ; 
And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter tear, 

And alas I am weary, weary, J 

[' The words and the music of this song were communicated by Burns for the 
Museum.'— Stenhouse. ' I believe that Burns took the idea of his verses from the 
Betrayed Maid, a ballad formerly much hawked about in Scotland.'— 0. K. Sharpe. 
One might have hesitated to assign this song to Burns ; but certainly his authorship 
of it is much fortified by its resemblance to another song of his, entitled The Ruined 
Farmer's Lament, which seems to have been formed on the same model ; see vol. 
U., p. 314.] 



COMING THROUGH THE RYE. 

Tune — Coming through the Rye. 

Coming through the rye, poor body, 

Coming through the rye, 
She draiglet a' her petticoatie, 
Coming through the rye. 
Jenny's a' wat, poor body, 

Jenny's seldom dry; 
She draiglet a' her petticoatie, 
Coming through the rye. 

Gin a body meet a body 

Coming through the rye, 
Gin a body kiss a body, 

Need a body cry ? 

Gin a body meet a body 
Coming through the glen, 

Gin a body kiss a body, 
Need the world ken ? 



YOUNG JAMIE, PRIDE OF A 7 THE PLAIN. 

Tune— The Carlin o' the Glen. 

Young Jamie, pride of a' the plain, 
Sae gallant and sae gay a swain ; 
Through a' our lasses he did rove, 
And reigned resistless king of love : 



SONGS IMPROVED. 269 

But now wi' sighs and starting tears, 
He strays amang the woods and briers ; 
Or in the glens and rocky caves 
He sad complaining dowie raves : 

I wha sae late did range and rove, 

And changed with every moon my lore, 

I little thought the time was near, 

Repentance I should buy sae dear. 

The slighted maids my torment see, 

And laugh at a' the pangs I dree ; suffer 

While she, my cruel, scornfu' fair, 

Forbids me e'er to see her mair ! 



THE LASS OF ECCLEEECHAN. 
Tune — Jacky Latin. 

Gat ye me, gat ye me, 

O gat ye me wi' naething ; 
Rock and reel, and spinnin' wheel, 

A mickle quarter basin. 
Bye attour, my gutcher has grandsire 

A heigh house and a laigh ane, 
A' forbye my bonnie sel', 

The toss of Ecclefechan. 

haud your tongue now, Luckie Laing; 

haud your tongue and jauner ; prattle 

1 held the gate till you I met, 

Syne I began to wander : 
I tint my whistle and my sang, lost 

1 tint my peace and pleasure ; 

But your green gvaff, now, Luckie Laing, 

Wad airt me to my treasure. direct 



THE CARDIN 7 O'T. 

Tune— Salt-fish and Dumplings. 

I coft a stane o' haslock woo', 

To make a coat to Johnny o't; 
For Johnny is my only jo ; 
I loe him best of ony yet. 

The cafdm' o't, the spinnin' o't, 

The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't; 
When ilka ell cost me a groat, 
The tailor staw the lynin' o't. 



270 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

For though his locks be lyart gray, 

And though his brow be held aboon ; 
Yet I hae seen him on a day, 

The pride of a' the parishen. 

Among the songs contributed for Johnson's fifth volume, and 
which appeared in it, was one entitled The Lass that made the Bed 
to me. Burns had found a rude and licentious old ballad under 
this title, had put it through his refining alembic, and brought 
it out a fine rich narrative song, but still too warm in its colouring 
for modern delicacy. He afterwards still further purified it, as 
follows : — 

THE LASS THAT MADE THE BED TO ME. 
Tune— The Peacock. 
When winter's wind was bl awing eauld, 

As to the north I bent my way, 
The mirksome night did me enfauld, 
I knew na where to lodge till day. 

A charming girl I chanced to meet, 

Just in the middle o' my care, 
And kindly she did me invite 

Her father's humble cot to share. 

Her hair was like the gowd sae fine, 

Her teeth were like the ivorie, 
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine, 

The lass that made the bed to me. 

Her bosom was the drifted snaw, 

Her limbs like marble fair to see; 
A finer form nane ever saw 

Than hers that made the bed to me. 

She made the bed baith lang and braid, 
Wi' twa white hands she spread it down, 

She bade < Guid-night,' and smiling said : 
'I hope ye '11 sleep baith saft and sounV 

Upon the morrow, when I raise, 

I thanked her for her courtesie ; 
A blush cam o'er the comely face 

Of her that made the bed for me. 

I clasped her waist and kissed her syne; 

The tear stude twinkling in her ee; 
* O dearest maid, gin ye '11 be mine, 

Ye aye sail mak the bed to me.' 



SONGS IMPROVED. 271 

THE HIGHLAND LADDIE. 

Tune — If thou 'It play me fair play. 

The bonniest lad that e'er I saw, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
Wore a plaid, and was fu' braw, 

Bonnie Highland laddie. 
On his head a bonnet blue, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie; 
His royal heart was firm and true, 

Bonnie Highland laddie. 

Trumpets sound, and cannons roar, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie ; 
And a' the hills wi' echoes roar, 

Bonnie Lowland lassie. 
Glory, honour, now invite, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
For freedom and my king to fight, 

Bonnie Lowland lassie. 

The sun a backward course shall take 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
Ere aught thy manly courage shake, 

Bonnie Highland laddie. 
Go ! for yourself procure renown, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
And for your lawful king his crown, 

Bonnie Highland laddie. 

[ ' Compiled by Burns from some Jacobite verses, entitled Tfie Highland Lad and* 
the Lowland Lassie.'— Stenhouse.'] 



SAE FAR AWA. 
Tune— Dalkeith Maiden Bridge. 

O sad and heavy should I part, 

But for her sake sae far awa ; 
Unknowing what my way may thwart, 

My native land sue far awa. 
Thou that of a' things Maker art, 

That formed this Fair sae far awa, 
Gie body strength, and I'll ne'er start 

At this my way sae far awa. 



272 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

How true is love to pure desert, 

So love to lier sae far awa; 
And nought can Leal my bosom's smart, 

While, oh, she is sae far awa. 
Nane other love, nae other dart, 

I feel, but hers sae far awa ; 
But fairer never touched a heart, 

Than hers, the Fair sae far awa. 



i'll aye ca' in by yon town. 

I'll aye ca' in by yon town, 

And by yon garden green again ; 

I'll aye ca' in by yon town, 

And see my bonnie Jean again. 

There's nane sail ken, there's nane sail guess, 
"What brings me back the gate again, 

But she my fairest faithfu' lass, 
And stowlins we sail meet again. 

She '11 wander by the aiken tree, 

When trystin' time draws near again ; 

And when her lovely form I see, 
O haith, she's doubly dear again. 



BANNOCKS O' BARLEY. 
Tuke— The Killogie. 
Bannocks o' bear-meal, 

Bannocks o' barley ; 
Here's to the Highlandman's 

Bannocks o' barley! 
Wha in a brulzie broil 

Will first cry a parley ? 
Never the lads w r i' 

The bannocks o' barley ! 

Bannocks o' bear-meal, 

Bannocks o' barley ; 
Here's to the lads wi' 

The bannocks o' barley ! 
Wha in his wae-days 

Were loyal to Charlie ? — 
Wha but the lads wi' 

The bannocks o' barley ? 

[Formed by Burns on the basis of a Jacobite song.] 



SONGS IMPROVED. 273 



IT WAS A' FOR OUR RIGHTFU' KING. 

Tune— It was a' for our right 'fu' King. 

It was a' for our rightfu' king 

We left fair Scotland's strand; 
It was a' for our rightfu' king 

We e'er saw Irish land, 
My dear ; 

We e'er saw Irish land. 

Now a' is done that men can do, 

And a' is done in vain ; 
My love and native land farewell, 

For I maun cross the main, 
My dear; 

For I maun cross the main. 

He turned him right, and round about 

Upon the Irish shore; 
And ga'e his bridle-reins a shake, 

With adieu for evermore, 
My dear; 

With adieu for evermore. 

The sodger from the wars returns, 

The sailor frae the main ; 
But I hae parted frae my love, 

Never to meet again, 
My dear; 

Never to meet again. 

When day is gane, and night is come, 

And a' folk bound to sleep ; 
I think on him that's far awa', 

The lee-lang night, and weep, 
My dear; 

The lee-lang night, and weep. 

[The authorship of this song may be doubted. Allan Cunningham was of opinion, 
that Burns 'rather beautified and amended some ancient strain which he had 
discovered, than wrote it wholly from his own heart and fancy.' See confirma- 
tion of this in Notes lo Johnson's Museum, by Mr David Laing.] 



THE HIGHLAND WIDOW'S LAMENT. 

Oh, I am come to the low countrie, 

Och-on, och-on, och-rio! 
Without a penny in my purse, 

To buy a meal to me. 



274 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

It was na sae in the Highland hills, 

Och-on, och-on, och-rie ! 
Nae woman in the country wide 

Sae happy was as me. 

For then I had a score o' kye, 

Och-on, och-on, och-rie ! 
Feeding on yon hills so high, 

And giving milk to me. 

And there I had threescore o' yow^s, 

Och-on, och-on, och-rie ! 
Skipping on yon bonnie knowes, 

And casting woo' to me. 

I was the happiest of the clan, 

Sair, sair may I repine ; 
For Donald was the brawest lad, 

And Donald he was mine. 

Till Charlie Stewart cam at last, 

Sae far to set us free ; 
My Donald's arm was wanted then, 

For Scotland and for me. 

Their waefu' fate what need I tell ? 

Right to the wrang did yield : 
My Donald and his country fell 

Upon Culloden's field. 

Oh, I am come to the low countrie, 

Och-on, och-on, och-rie ! 
Nae woman in the world wide 

Sae wretched now as me. 

[.' This pathetic ballad was wholly composed by Burns for the Museum, unless we 
except the exclamation : " Och-on, och-on, och-rie ! " which appears in the old song 
composed on the massacre of Glencoe, inserted in the first volume of the Museum.' 
—Stenhouse.'} 



O STEER HER UP. 

Tune— steer her up, and haud her gaun. 

[The first four lines of this song are part of an old ditty.] 

O steer her up and haud her gaun — 
Her mother's at the mill, jo ; 

And gin she winna take a man, 
E'en let her take her will, jo : 



SONGS IMPROVED. 275 

First shore her wi' a kindly kiss, threaten 

And ca' another gill, jo ; 
And gin she take the thing amiss, 

E'en let her flyte her fill, jo. scold 

O steer her up, and be na blate, bashful 

And gin she take it ill, jo, 
Then lea'e the lassie till her fate, 

And time nae langer spill, jo : 
Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute, 

But think upon it still, jo ; 
Then gin the lassie winna do't, 

Ye '11 fin' anither will, jo. 



WEE WILLIE GRAY. 

"Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet, 

Peel a willow-wand, to be him boots and jacket; 

The rose upon the brier will be him trouse and doublet, 

The rose upon the brier will be him trouse and doublet. 

"Wee Willie Gray and his leather wallet, 
Twice a lilie flower will be him sark and cravat; 
Feathers of a flie wad feather up his bonnet, 
Feathers of a flie wad feather up his bonnet. 

[Written by Burns in imitation, and to the tune, of an old nursery-song.] 



AYE MY WIFE SHE DANG ME. 
Tune — My Wife she dang me. 

O aye my wife she dang me, beat 

And aft my wife did bang me, 
If ye gie a woman a' her will, 

Guid faith, she'll soon o'ergang ye. 
On peace and rest my mind was bent, 

And fool I was I married ; 
But never honest man's intent 

As cursedly miscarried. 

Some sa'r o' comfort still at last, 

When a' my days are done, man; 
My pains o' hell on earth are past, 

I'm sure o' bliss aboon, man. 
aye my wife she dang me, 

And aft my wife did bang me, 
If ye gie a woman a' her will, 

Guid faith, she'll soon o'ergang ye. 



276 LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 



O GUID ALE COMES. 



guid ale comes and guid ale goes, 
Guid ale gars me sell my hose, 
Sell my hose and pawn my shoon ; 
Guid ale keeps my heart aboon. 

1 had sax owsen in a pleugh, 
They drew a' weel eneugh, 

I selt them a' just ane by ane ; 
Guid ale keeps my heart aboon. 



ROBIN SHURE IN HAIRST. 
CHORUS. 

Robin shure in hairst, 

I shure wi' him ; 
Fient a heuk had I, 

Yet I stack by him. 

I gaed up to Dunse, 

To warp a wab o' plaiden ; 
At his daddie's yett, 

Wha met me but Eobin ? 

Was na Eobin bauld, 
Though I was a cotter, 

Played me sic a trick, 
And me the eller's dochter ? 

Robin promised me 

A' my winter vittle ; 
Fient haet he had but three 

Goose feathers and a whittle. 



SWEETEST MAY. 

Sweetest May, let love inspire thee ; 
Take a heart which he desires thee ; 
As thy constant slave regard it ; 
For its faith and truth reward it. 

Proof o' shot to birth or money, 
Not the wealthy but the bonnie ; 
Not high-born, but noble-minded, 
In love's silken band can bind it. 



SONGS IMPROVED. 277 



THERE WAS A BONNIE LASS. 

There was a bonnie lass, and a bonnie, bonnie lass, 

And she loed her bonnie laddie dear, 
Till war's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms, 

Wi' monie a sigh and a tear. 

Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar, 

He still was a stranger to fear ; 
And nought could him quail, or his bosom assail, 

But the bonnie lass he loed sae dear. 



CROWDIE. 

O that I had ne'er been married, 

I wad never had nae care ; 
Now I've gotten wife and bairns, 
And they cry crowdie evermair. 
Ance crowdie, twice crowdie, 

Three times crowdie in a day; 
Gin ye crowdie ony mair, 

Ye '11 crowdie a ; my meal away. 

Waefu' want and hunger fley me, 

Glowrin' by the hallan en'; 
Sair I fecht them at the door, 

But aye I 'm eerie they come ben. 

[' The first verse of this song is old ; the second was written by Burns. ~ 
Stenhouse.'] 



KOTES TO JOHNSON'S SCOTS MUSICAL MUSEUM. 



[In the latter part of his life, Burns procured an interleaved copy of Johnson's 
Scots Musical Museum, for the purpose of concentrating in that place his remarks 
on Scottish songs and airs, and all that he knew of their authors. The copy thus 
annotated he presented to Captain Riddel of Glenriddel, whose niece, Eliza Bayley, 
of Manchester, latterly possessed it. Most of the notes are merely indications of an 
author's name, or of a simple fact respecting the locality or origin of the song. 
Such of them as possess any general interest are here presented.] 



O OPEN THE DOOR, LORD GREGORY. 

It is somewhat singular, that in Lanark, Kenfrew, Ayr, Wigton, 
Kirkcudbright, and Dumfries shires, there is scarcely an old song or 
tune which, from the title, &c, can be guessed to belong to, or be 
the production of, these counties. This, I conjecture, is one of these 
very few ; as the ballad, which is a long one, is called, both by tradi- 
tion and in printed collections, The Lass of Lochryan, which I take 
to be Lochryan, in Galloway. 



CLOUT THE CALDRON. 

A tradition is mentioned in the Bee, that the second Bishop 
Chisholm, of Dumblane, used to say, that if he were going to be 
hanged, nothing would soothe his mind so much by the way as to 
hear Clout the Caldron played. 

I have met with another tradition, that the old song to this tune 

Hae ye ony pots or pans, 
Or ony broken chanlers 1 

was composed on one of the Kenmure family, in the cavalier times, 
and alluded to an amour he had, while under hiding, in the disguise 
of an itinerant tinker. The air is also known by the name of The 
Blacksmith and his Apron, which, from the rhythm, seems to have 
been a line of some old sono- to the tune. 



NOTES TO JOHNSON'S MUSICAL MUSEUM. 279 



SAW YE MY PEGGY f 

This charming song is much older, and, indeed, superior to 
Ramsay's verses, The Toast, as he calls them. There is another set 
of the words, much older still, and which I take to be the original 
one ; but though it has a very great deal of merit, it is not quite 
ladies' reading. 

The original words, for they can scarcely be called verses, seem to 
be as follow — a song familiar from the cradle to every Scottish 
ear : — 

Saw ye my Maggie, 
Saw ye my Maggie, 
Saw ye my Maggie 

Linkin.' o'er the lea? 

High kilted was she, 
High kilted was she, 
High kilted was she, 

Her coat aboon her knee, &c. 

Though it by no means follows that the silliest verses to an air 
must, for that reason, be the original song, yet I take this ballad, of 
which I have quoted part, to be old verses. The two songs in 
Ramsay, one of them evidently his own, are never to be met with in 
the fireside circle of our peasantry ; while that which I take to be 
the old song is in every shepherd's mouth. Ramsay, I suppose, had 
thought the old verses unworthy of a place in his collection. 



THE FLOWERS OF EDINBURGH. 

This song is one of the many effusions of Scots Jacobitism. The 
title, flowers of Edinburgh, has no manner of connection with the 
present verses ; so I suspect there has been an older set of words, of 
which the title is all that remains. 

By the by, it is singular enough that the Scottish Muses were all 
Jacobites. I have paid more attention to every description of Scots 
songs than perhaps anybody living has done, and I do not recollect 
one single stanza, or even the title, of the most trifling Scots air, 
which has the least panegyrical reference to the families of Nassau 
or B-jnswick, while there are hundreds satirising them. This may 
be uhought no panegyric on the Scots poets, but I mean it as such. 
For myself, I would always take it as a compliment to have it said 
that my heart ran before my head— and surely the gallant though 
unfortunate house of Stuart, the kings of our fathers for so many 
heroic ages, is a theme .... 



280 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



FYE, GAE RUB HER O'ER Wl' STRAE. 

It is self-evident, that the first four lines of this song are part of a 
song more ancient than Ramsay's beautiful verses which are annexed 
to them. As music is the language of nature ; and poetry, particu- 
larly songs, are always less or more localised (if I may be allowed 
the verb) by some of the modifications of time and place, this is the 
reason why so many of our Scots airs have outlived their original, 
and perhaps many subsequent sets of verses, except a single name, 
or phrase, or sometimes one or two lines, simply to distinguish the 
tunes by. 

To this day, among people who know nothing of Ramsay's verses, 
the following is the song, and all the song that ever I heard : — 

Gin ye meet a bonnie lassie, 

Gie her a kiss and let her gae ; 
But gin ye meet a dirty hizzie, 

Fye, gae rub her o'er wi' strae. 

Fye, gae rub her, rub her, rub her, 

Fye, gae rub her o'er wi' strae : 
And gin ye meet a dirty hizzie, 

Fye, gae rub her o'er wi' strae. 



THE LAST TIME I CAME O'ER THE MUIR. 

[The last time I came o'er the muir, 

I left my love behind me ; 
Ye gods, what pains do I endure, 

"When saft ideas mind me, &cJ 

Ramsay found the first line of this song, which had been preseiwed 
as the title of the charming air, 1 and then composed the rest of the 
verses to suit that line. This has always a finer effect than compos- 
ing English words, or words with an idea foreign to the spirit of the 
old title. Where old titles of songs convey any idea at all, it will 
generally be found to be quite in the spirit of the air. 



HIGHLAND LADDIE. 

As this was a favourite theme with our later Scottish Muses, there 
are several airs and songs of that name. That which I take to be 
the oldest, is to be found in the Musical Museum, beginning, ' T hae 
been at Crookie-den.' One reason for my thinking so is, that Osv "Id 
has it in his collection by the name of The Auld Highland Laddie. 
It is also known by the name of Jinglan Johnnie, which is a well- 

1 [The title of this air in the Skene manuscript, circa 1620, is Alace that I cam 
o'er the Muir, and left my Love behind me.] 



NOTES TO JOHNSON'S MUSICAL MUSEUM. 281 

known song of four or five stanzas, and seems to be an earlier song 
than Jacobite times. As a proof of this, it is little known to the 
peasantry by the name of Highland Laddie, while everybody knows 
Jinglan Johnnie. The song begins — 

Jinglan. John, the meikle man, 

He met wi' a lass was blithe and bonnie. 

Another Highland Laddie is also in the Museum, vol. v., which I 
take to be«"Tlamsay's original, as he has borrowed the chorus, my 
bonnie Highland Lad, &c. It consists of three stanzas, besides the 
chorus, and has humour in its composition-^it is an excellent, but 
somewhat licentious song. It begins — 

As I cam o'er Cairney-Mount, 

And down amang the blooming heather. 

This air, and the common Highland Laddie, seem only to be 
different sets. 

Another Highland Laddie, also in the Museum, vol. v., is the tune 
of several Jacobite fragments. One of these old songs to it, only 
exists, as far as I know, in these four lines — 

Whare hae ye been a' day, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie? 
Down the back o' Bell's brae, 

Courtin' Maggie, conrtin' Maggie. 

Another of this name is Dr Arne's beautiful air, called the new 
Highland Laddie. 



FAIREST OF THE FAIR. 



It is too barefaced to take Dr Percy's charming song, and, by 
means of transposing a few English words into Scots, to offer to pass 
it for a Scots song. I was not acquainted with the editor until the 
first volume was nearly finished, else, had I known in time, I would 
have prevented such an impudent absurdity. 



THE BLAITHRIE O'T. 1 

The following is a set of this song, which was the earliest song I 
remember to have got by heart. When a child, an old woman sang 
it to me, and I picked it up, every word, at first hearing : — 

O Willy, weel I mind, I lent yon my hand 
To sing you a song which you did me command ; 
But my memory's so bad, I had almost forgot 
That you called it the gear and the blaithrie o't. 

1 [' Shame fall the gear and the blad'ry o't,' is the turn of an old Scottish song, 
spoken when a young handsome girl marries an old man upon the account of his 
wealth.— Kelly's Scots Proverbs, p. 296.] 



282 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Ill not sing about confusion, delusion, or pride, 
I'll sing about a laddie was for a virtuous bride; 
For virtue is an ornament that time will never rot, 
And preferable to gear and the blaithrie o 't. 

Though my lassie hae nae scarlets or silks to put on, 
We envy not the greatest that sits upon the throne ; 
I wad rather hae my lassie, though she cam in her smock, 
Than a princess wi' the gear and the blaithrie o't. 

Though we hae nae horses or menzie at command, 

We will toil on our foot, and we'll work wi* our hand; 

And when wearied without rest, we'll find it sweet in any spot, 

And we'll value not the gear and the blaithrie o't. 

If we hae ony babies, we'll count them as lent ; 

Hae we less, hae we mair. we will aye be content"; 

For they say they hae mair pleasure that wins but a groat, 

Than the miser wi' his gear and the blaithrie o 't. 

I'll not meddle wi' th' affairs o' the kirk or the queen ; 
They're nae matters for a sang, let them sink let them swim; 
On your kirk I'll ne'er encroach, but I'll hold it still remote, 
Sae tak this for the gear and the blaithrie o 't. 



MAY EVE, OR KATE OF ABERDEEN. 

Kate of Aberdeen is, I believe, the work of poor Cunningham 
the player, of whom the following anecdote, though told before, 
deserves a recital : — A fat dignitary of the Church coming past 
Cunningham one Sunday, as the poor poet was busy plying a fishing- 
rod in some stream near Durham, his native county, his reverence 
reprimanded Cunningham very severely for such an occupation on 
such a day. The poor poet, with that inoffensive gentleness of 
manners which was his peculiar characteristic, replied, that he 
hoped God and his reverence would forgive his seeming profanity of 
that sacred day, ' as he had no dinner to eat but what lay at the bottom 
of that pool!' This, Mr Woods, the player, who knew Cunningham 
well, and esteemed him much, assured me was true. 



TWEED-SIDE. 

[What beauties doth Flora disclose ! 

How sweet are her smiles upon Tweed ! 
Yet Mary's, still sweeter than those, 

Both nature and fancy exceed. 
Nor daisy, nor sweet blushing rose, 

Nor all the gay flowers of the field, 
Nor Tweed gliding gently through those, 

Such beauty and pleasure does yield, &c] 

In Ramsay's Tea-table Miscellany, he tells us that about thirty of 



NOTES TO JOHNSON'S MUSICAL MUSEUM. 283 

the songs in that publication were the works of some young gentle- 
men of his acquaintance, which songs are marked with the letters 
D. C. &c. Old Mr Tytler of Woodhouselee, the worthy and able 
defender of the beauteous Queen of Scots, told me that the songs 
marked C. in the Tea-table, were the composition of a Mr Craw- 
ford, of the house of Achnames, who was afterwards unfortunately 
drowned coming from France. As Tytler was most intimately 
acquainted with Allan Ramsay, I think the anecdote may be depended 
on. Of consequence, the beautiful song of Tweed-side is Mr Craw- 
ford's, and, indeed, does great honour to his poetical talents. He 
was a Robert Crawford ; the Mary he celebrates was a Mary Stewart, 
of the Castle-Milk family, afterwards married to a Mr John Ritchie. 1 

I have seen a song, calling itself the original Tweed-side, and said 
to have been composed by a Lord Yester. 2 It consisted of two 
stanzas, of which I still recollect the first — 

When Maggie and I was acquaint, 

I carried my noddle fu' hie ; 
Nae lintwhite on a' the green plain, 

Nor gowdspink sae happy as me : 
But I saw her sae fair, and I loed : 

I wooed, bfet I cam nae great speed ; 
So now I maun wander abroad, 

And lay my banes far frae the Tweed. . 



THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE. 

This is one of the most beautiful songs in the Scots or any other 
language. The two lines — 

A$id will I see his face again ? 
And will I hear him speak? 

as well as the two preceding ones, are unequalled almost by anything 
I ever heard or read ; and the lines — 

The present moment is our ain, 
The neist we never saw, 

are worthy of the first poet. It is long posterior to Ramsay's days. 
About the year 1771, or '72, it came first on the streets as a ballad, 
and, I suppose, the composition of the song was not much anterior 
to that period. 

1 Sec notes on this subject in the new edition of Johnson's Musical Museum. Mr 
Robert Crawford, author of the beautiful pastoral songs, Twee.dside, and the Bush 
aboon Traquair, was a younger son of Patrick Crawfdfrd, third son of David Craw- 
ford of Drumsoy. He died in 1732, in the prime of life, unmarried. Burns has 
made a mistake in stating tli.it he was of the house of Auchnames, and also in 
giving Mary Stewart as his heroine. See below. 

2 Second Marquis of Tweeddale. He died in 1713, aged sixty-eight. 



284 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



MARY SCOTT, THE FLOWER OF YARROY, . 

Mr Robertson, in his statistical account of the parish of Selkirk, 
says, that Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow, was descended from 
the Dryhope, and married into the Harden family. Her daughter 
was married to a predecessor of the present Sir Francis Elliot of 
Stobs, and of the late Lord Heathfield. 

There is a circumstance in their contract of marriage that merits 
attention, and it strongly marks the predatory spirit of the times. 
The father-in-law agrees to keep his daughter for some time after 
the marriage, for which the son-in-law binds himself to give him the 
profits of the first Michaelmas moon ! 1 



THE BONNIE BRUCKET LASSIE. 

[The bonnie brucket lassie, 

She's blue beneath the een; 
She was the fairest lassie 

That danced on the green; 

A lad he loed her dearly, 

She did his love return ; 
But he his vows has broken, 

And left her for to mourn, &c.J 

The two first lines of this song are all of it that is old. The restf 
of the song, as well as those songs in the Museum marked T. are the 
works of an obscure, tippling, but extraordinary body of the name 
of Tytler, commonly known by the name of Balloon Tytler, from 
his having projected a balloon — a mortal wh,o, though lie drudges 
about Edinburgh as a common printer, with leaky shoes, a sky- 
lighted hat, and knee-buckles as unlike as George-by-the-grace-of- 
God, and Solomon-the-son-of-David, yet that same unknown drunken 
mortal is author and compiler of three-fourths of Elliot's pompous 
Encyclopcedia Britannica, which he composed at half a guinea 
a week ! 

1 The song to which Burns appended this note, was one by Robert Crawford, 
celebrating, not the Mary Scott of predatory times, who bore the name of the 
Flower of Yarroiv, but a descendant of hers, who flourished in the early part of the 
eighteenth century, Miss Mary Lilias Scott, daughter of Walter Scott, Esq., of 
Harden, and who was also styled the Flower of Yarrow. This lady was the true 
' Mary' of Tweedside. 



notes to johnson 1 s musical* museum. 285 



CROMLET S LILT. 

[Since all thy vows, false maid, 

Are blown to air, 
And my poor heart betrayed 

To sad despair, 
Into some wilderness, 
My grief I will express, 
And thy hard-heartedness, 

O cruel fair !] 

The following interesting account of this plaintive dirge was 
communicated to Mr Kiddel by Alexander Fraser Tytler, Esq., of 
Woodhouselee : — 

' In the latter end of the sixteenth century, the Chisholms were 
proprietors of the estate of Cromlix — now possessed by the 
Drurnmonds. The eldest son of that family was very much attached 
to a daughter of Stirling of Ardoch, commonly known by the name 
of Fair Helen of Ardoch. 

c At that time, the opportunities of meeting betwixt the sexes were 
more rare, consequently more sought after than now ; and the 
Scottish ladies, far from priding themselves on extensive literature, 
were thought sufficiently book-learned if they could make out the 
Scriptures in their mother-tongue. Writing was entirely out of the 
line of female education. At that period, the most of our young 
men of family sought a fortune, or found a grave in France. 
Cromlix, when he went abroad to the war, was obliged to leave the 
management of his correspondence with his mistress to a lay-brother 
of the monastery of Dumblane, in the immediate neighbourhood 
of Cromlix, and near Ardoch. This man, unfortunately, was 
deeply sensible of Helen's charms. He artfully prepossessed her 
with stories to the disadvantage of Cromlix, and, by misinterpreting 
or keeping up the letters and messages intrusted to his care, he 
entirely irritated both. All connection was broken off betwixt 
them : Helen was inconsolable, and Cromlix has left behind him, in 
the ballad called Cromlefs Lilt, a proof of the elegance of his genius, 
as well as the steadiness of his love. 

'When the artful monk thought time had sufficiently softened 
Helen's sorrow, he proposed himself as a lover. Helen was obdurate : 
but at last, overcome by the persuasions of her brother, with 
whom she lived, and who, having a family of thirty-one children, 
was probably very well pleased to get her off his hands, she 
submitted, rather than consented, to the ceremony ; but there her 
compliance ended: and, when forcibly put into bed, she started 
quite frantic from it, screaming out, that after three gentle taps on 
the wainscot, at the bed-head, she heard Cromlix's voice, crying : 
"Helen, Helen, mind me!" Cromlix soon after coming home, the 
treachery of the confidant was discovered, her marriage annulled, 
and Helen became Lady Cromlix.' 

N.B.— Marg. Murray, mother to these thirty-one children, was 



286 LIFE AND Y^ORKS OP BURNS. 

daughter to Murray of Strewn, one of the seventeen sons of Tully- 
bardine, and whose youngest son, commonly called the Tutor of 
Ardoch, died in the year 1715, aged 111 years. 



LEWIS GORDON. 

[Oh ! send Lewie Gordon hame, 
And the lad I maunna name ; 
Though his back be at the wa', 
Hei'e's to him that's far awa! 

O hon! my Highlandman, 

O my bonnie Highlandman ! 

"VVeel would I my true-love ken, 

Amang ten thousand Highlandmen, &c] 

This air is a proof how one of our Scots tunes comes to be 
composed out of another. I have one of the earliest copies of the 
song, and it has prefixed, 

Tune of Tarry Woo. 

Of which tune a different set has insensibly varied into a different 
air. To a Scots critic, the pathos of the line, 

' Though his back be at the wa',' 

must be very striking. It needs not a Jacobite prejudice to be 
affected with this song. 

The supposed author of Lewis Gordon was a Mr Geddes, priest, at 
Shenval, in the Enzie. 



TRANENT-MUIR. 

[The Chevalier, being void of fear, 

Did march up Birsley Brae, man, 
And through Tranent, ere he did stent, 

As fast as he could gae, man, &C. 1 ] 

Tranent-Muir was composed by a Mr Skirving, a very worthy, 
respectable farmer near Haddington. I have heard the anecdote 
often, that Lieut. Smith, whom he mentions in the ninth stanza, 
came to Haddington after the publication of the song, and sent a 
challenge to Skirving to meet him at Haddington, and answer for 
the unworthy manner in which he had noticed him in his song. 
* Gang away back,' said the honest farmer, ' and tell Mr Smith that I 
hae nae leisure to come to Haddington ; but tell him to come here, 
and I'll tak a look o' him, and if I think I'm fit to fecht him, I'll 
fecht him; and if no, I'll do as he did — I'll rin awa* 

1 [The subject of this song is the battle of Preston, fought September 1745, 
between the government forces under General Cope, and the Highland army under 
Prince Charles Stuart.] 



NOTES TO JOHNSON'S MUSICAL MUSEUM. 287 



STREPHON AND LYDIA. 

[All lonely on the sultry beach, 

Expiring Strephon lay, 
No hand the cordial draught to reach, 

Nor cheer the gloomy way. 
Ill-fated youth ! no parent nigh, 

To catch thy fleeting breath, 
No bride to fix thy swimming eye, 

Or smooth the face of death. 

Far distant from the mournful scene, 

Thy parents sit at ease, 
Thy Lydia rifles all the plain, 

And all the spring to please. 
Ill-fated youth ! by fault of friend, 

Not force of foe depressed, 
Thou fall' st, alas ! thyself, thy kind, 

Thy country, unredressed !] 

The following account of this song I had from Dr Blacklock : — 
The Strephon and Lydia mentioned in the song were perhaps the 
loveliest couple of their time. The gentleman was commonly known 
by the name of Beau Gibson. The lady was the ' Gentle Jean ' 
celebrated somewhere in Hamilton of Bangour's poems. Having 
frequently met at public places, they had formed a reciprocal attach- 
ment, which their friends thought dangerous, as their resources 
were by no means adequate to their tastes and habits of life. To 
elude the bad consequences of such a connection, Strephon was 
sent abroad with a commission, and perished in Admiral Vernon's 
expedition to Carthagena. 

The author of the song was William Wallace, Esq., of Cairnhill, 
in Ayrshire. 



DUMBARTON DRUMS. 

[Dumbarton's drums beat bonnie, O, 
When they mind me o' my dear Johnnie, O. 

How happy am I, 

With my soldier sitting by, 
When he kisses and blesses his Annie, O, &c] 

This is the last of the West Highland airs; 1 and from it over the 
whole tract of country to the confines of Tweed-side, there is hardly 
a tune or song that on% can say has taken its origin from any place 
or transaction in that part of Scotland. The oldest Ayrshire reel is 
Stewarton Lasses, which was made by the father of the present Sir 

1 [Burns argues, that it is a west country air, from its reference to Dumbarton; 
but the probability is, that the drums alluded to were those of Dumbarton*! 
regiment— namely, the Earl of Dumbarton.] 



288 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Walter Montgomery Cunningham, alias Lord Lysle; since which 
period there has indeed been local music in that county in great 
plenty. Johnnie Fact is the only old song which I could ever trace 
as belonging to the extensive county of Ayr. 



KIRK WAD LET ME BE. 

[I am a puir silly auld man, 

And hirpling o'er a tree, 
Tet fain, fain kiss wad I, 

An the kirk wad let me be, &c] 

Tradition in the western parts of Scotland tells that this old song, 
of which there are still three stanzas extant, once saved a Covenant- 
ing clergyman out of a scrape. It was a little prior to the Revolution, 
a period when being a Scots Covenanter was being a felon, that one 
of their clergy, who was at that very time hunted by the merciless 
soldiery, fell in by accident with a party of the military. The 
soldiers were not exactly acquainted with the person of the reverend 
gentleman of whom they were in search; but from suspicious 
circumstances, they fancied that they had got one of that cloth and 
opprobrious persuasion among them in the person of this stranger 
'Mass John,' to extricate himself, assumed a freedom of manners 
very unlike the gloomy strictness of his sect ; and among other 
convivial exhibitions, sang — and some traditions say, composed on 
the spur of the occasion — Kirk wad let me be, with such effect, that 

the soldiers swore he was a d honest fellow, and that it was 

impossible he could belong to those hellish conventicles, and so gave 
him his liberty. 

The first stanza of this song, a little altered, is a favourite kind of 
dramatic interlude acted at country-weddings, in the south-west 
parts of the kingdom. A young fellow is dressed up like an old 
beggar; a peruke, commonly made of carded tow, represents hoary 
locks; an old bonnet; a ragged plaid, or surtout, bound with a 
straw-rope for a girdle ; a pair of old shoes, with straw-ropes twisted 
round his ankles, as is done by shepherds in snowy weather: his 
face they disguise as like wretched old age as they can. In this 
plight he is brought into the wedding- house, frequently to the 
astonishment of strangers, who are not in the secret, and begins to 
sing— 

[Oh, I am a silly auld man, 
My name it is auld Glenae, ] &c] 

He is asked to drink, and by and by to dance, which, after some 
uncouth excuses, he is prevailed on to do, the fiddler playing the 
tune which here is commonly called Auld Glenae : in short, he is all 

1 Glenae, on the small river Ae, in Annandale ; the seat and designation of an 
ancient branch, and the present representative, of the gallant and unfortunate 
Dalzels of Carnwath. {This is the Author's note.) 



NOTES TO JOHNSON'S MUSICAL MUSEUM. 289 

the time so plied with liquor, that he is understood to get intoxicated, 
and, with all the ridiculous gesticulations of an old drunken beggar, 
he dances and staggers until he falls on the floor ; yet still in all his 
riot, nay, in his rolling and tumbling on the floor, with some other 
drunken motions of his body, he beats time to the nreisic, till at last 
he is supposed to be carried out dead drunk. 



TUNE YOUR FIDDLES. 

£Tune your fiddles, tune them sweetly, 
Play the Marquis' reel discreetly, 
Here are we a band completely, 

Fitted to be jolly, 
lome, my boys, be blithe and gauey, 
x.very youngster choose his lassie, 
Dance wi' life, and be not saucy, 

Shy nor melancholy, &c] 

This song was composed by the Rev. John Skinner, Nonjuror 
Clergyman at Linshart, near Peterhead. He is likewise author 
of Tullochgorum, Eioie wi' the Crooked Horn, John o' Badenyond, &c; 
and what is of still more consequence, he is one of the worthiest of 
mankind. He is the author of an ecclesiastical history of Scotland. 
The air is by Mr Marshall, butler to the Duke of Gordon, the first 
composer of strathspeys of the age. I have been told by somebody, 
who had it of Marshall himself, that he took the idea of his three 
most celebrated pieces, The Marquis of Huntley's Red, his Farewell, 
and Miss Admiral Gordon's Reel, from the old air. The German 
Lair die. 



GIL MOR1CE. 

This plaintive ballad ought to have been called Child Maurice, 
and not Gil Morice. In its present dress, it has gained immortal 
honour from Mr Home's taking from it the groundwork of his 
fine tragedy of Douglas. But I am of opinion, that the present 
ballad is a modern composition; perhaps not much above the age 
of the middle of the last century ; at least I should be glad to see 
or hear of a copy of the present words prior to 1050. That it was 
taken from an old ballad, called Child Maurice, now lost, I am 
inclined to believe; but the present one may be classed with 
Ho.rdyhiute, Kenneth, Duncan, the Laird of Woddhdttsdie, Lord 
Livingston, Binnorie, The Death of MonteUh,a.nd many other modern 
productions, which have been swallowed by many readers as 
ancient fragments of old poems. This beautiful plaintive tune 
was composed by Mr M'Gibbori, the selector of a collection of 
Scots tunes. 

Tn addition to the observations on Gil Morusc, I add that of 

VOL. IV. N 



290 LIFE AND WOKKS OF BURNS. 

the songs which Capt. Riddel mentions, Kenneth and Duncan 
are juvenile compositions of Mr Mackenzie, ' The Man of Feeling.' 
Mackenzie's father shewed them in MS. to Dr Blacklock, as the 
productions of his son, from which the doctor rightly prognosticated 
that the young poet would make, in his more advanced years, a 
respectable figure in the world of letters. 
This I had from Blacklock. 



TULLOCHGORUM. 

[' Come, gie's a sang,' Montgomery cried, 
'And lay your disputes all aside ; 
What signifies 't for folks to chide 

For what was done before them : 
Let Whig and Tory all agree, 

Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory, 
\Vhig and Tory all agree, 

To drop their Whig-mig-morum. 
Let Whig and Tory all agree 
To spend the night wi' mirth and glee, 
And cheerful sing alang wi' me, 

The reel o' Tullochgorum,' &c] 

This first of songs is the masterpiece of my old friend Skinner. 
He was passing the day at the town of Cullen, I think it was, 1 in 
a friend's house, whose name was Montgomery. Mrs Montgomery 
observing, en passant, tha.t the beautiful reel of Tullochgorum wanted 
words, she begged them of Mr Skinner, who gratified her wishes, 
and the wishes of every lover of Scottish song, in this most excellent 
ballad. 

These particulars I had from the author's son, Bishop Skinner, 
at Aberdeen. 



A SOUTHLAND JENNY. 

[A Southland Jenny that was right bonnie, 

She had for a suitor a Norlan' Johnnie ; 

But he was sicken a bashfu' wooer, 

That he could scarcely speak unto her. 

But blinks o' her beauty, and hopes o' her siller, 

Forced him at last to tell his mind till'er ; 

'My dear,' quo' he, ' we '11 nae longer tarry ; 

Gin ye can love me, let's o'er the muir and marry,' &c] 

This is a popular Ayrshire song, though the notes were never 
taken down before. It, as well as many of the ballad tunes in this 
collection, was written from Mrs Burns's voice. 

1 [In reality, the town of Ellon, in Aberdeenshire.] 



NOTES TO JOHNSON'S MUSICAL MUSEUM. 291 



O'ER THE MOOR AMANG THE HEATHER. 

[Coming through the craigs o' Kyle, 
Amang the bonnie blooming heather, 
There I met a bonnie lassie, 
Keeping a' her yowes thegither. 

O'er the moor amang the heather, 

O'er the moor amang the heather, 

There I met a bonnie lassie, 

Keeping a' her yowes thegither, &c] 

This song is the composition of a Jean Glover, a girl who was not 

only a , but also a thief; and, in one or other character, has 

visited most of the correction-houses in the West. She was born, 
I believe, in Kilmarnock. I took the song down from her singing^ 
as she was strolling through the country with a sleight-of-hand 
blackguard. 



THE TEARS I SHED MUST EVER FALL. 

This song of genius was composed by a Miss Cranston. 1 It wanted 
four lines to make all the stanzas suit the music, which I added, and 
are the four first of the last stanza. 

No cold approach, no altered mien, 

Just what would make suspicion start ; 
No pause the dire extremes between, 

He made me blest — and broke my heart ! 



BOB O* DUMBLANE. 

Ramsay, as usual, has modernised this song. The original, which 
I learned on the spot, from my old hostess, in the principal inn 
there, is — 

Lassie, lend me your braw hemp heckle, 

And I '11 lend you my thripplin-kame ; 

My heckle is broken, it canna be gotten, 

And we '11 gae dance the bob o' Dumblane, &c. 

I insert this song to introduce the following anecdote, which I 
have heard well authenticated : — In the evening of the day of the 
battle of Dumblane (Sheriffmuir), when the action was over, a Scots 
officer in Argyle's army observed to his Grace, that he was afraid 
the rebels would give out to the world that they had gotten the 
victory. * Weel, wool,' returned his Grace, alluding to the foregoing 
ballad, ' if they think it be na weel bobbit, we'll bob it again.' 

1 [Afterwards Mrs Dugald Stewart.] 



PROSE ARTICLES UNPLACED, 



ADDRESS OF THE SCOTCH DISTILLERS TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
WILLIAM PITT. 

Sir — While pursy burgesses crowd your gate, sweating under the 
weight of heavy addresses, permit us, the quondam distillers in that 
part of Great Britain called Scotland, to approach you, not with 
venal approbation, but with fraternal condolence; not as what you 
are just now, or for some time have been, but as what, in all proba- 
bility, you will shortly be. We shall have the merit of not desert- 
ing our friends in the day of their calamity, and you will have the 
satisfaction of perusing at least one honest address. You are well 
acquainted with the dissection of human nature ; nor do you need 
the assistance of a fellow-creature's bosom to inform you, that man 
is always a selfish, often a perfidious being. This assertion, how- 
ever the hasty conclusions of superficial observation may doubt of 
it, or the raw inexperience of youth may deny it, those who make 
the fatal experiment we have done, will feel. You are a statesman, 
and consequently are not ignorant of the traffic of these corporation 
compliments. The little great man who drives the borough to 
market, and the very great man who buys the borough in that 
market, they two do the whole business ; and you well know, they, 
likewise, have their price. With that sullen disdain which you can 
so well assume, rise, illustrious sir, and spurn these hireling efforts 
of venal stupidity. At best, they are the compliments of a 
man's friends on the morning of his execution : they take a decent 
farewell ; resign you to your fate ; and hurry away from your 
approaching hour. 

If fame say true, and omens be not very much mistaken, you are 
about to make your exit from that world where the sun of gladness 
gilds the paths of prosperous men : permit us, great sir, with the 
sympathy of fellow-feeling, to hail your passage to the realms of ruin. 

Whether the sentiment proceed from the selfishness or cowardice 
of mankind, is immaterial ; but to point out to a child of misfortune 
those who are still more unhappy, is to give him some degree of 
positive enjoyment. In this light, sir, our downfall may be again 
useful to you : though not exactly in the same way, it is not perhaps 
the first time it has gratified your feelings. It is true, the triumph 
of your evil star is exceedingly despiteful. At an age when others 



PROSE ARTICLES UNPLACED. 293 

are the votaries of pleasure, or underlings in business, you had 
attained the highest wish of a British statesman ; and with the 
ordinary date of human life, Avhat a prospect was before you ! Deeply 
rooted in royal favour , you overshadowed the land. The birds of 
passage which follow ministerial sunshine through every clime of 
political faith and manners, flocked to your branches; and the beasts 
of the field (the lordly possessors of hills and valleys) crowded under 
your shade. 'But behold a watcher, a holy one, came down from 
heaven, and cried aloud, and said thus : Hew down the tree, and cut 
off his branches ; shake off his leaves, and scatter his fruit ; let the 
beasts get away from under it, and the fowls from his branches ! ' 
A blow from an unthought-of quarter, one of those terrible accidents 
which peculiarly mark the hand of Omnipotence, overset your 
career, and laid all your fancied honours in the dust. But turn your 
eyes, sir, to the tragic scenes of our fate. An ancient nation, that 
for many ages had gallantly maintained the unequal struggle for 
independence with her much more powerful neighbour, at last 
agrees to a union which should ever after make them one people. In 
consideration of certain circumstances, it was covenanted that the 
former should enjoy a stipulated alleviation in her share of the 
public burdens, particulai'ly in that branch of the revenue called the 
Excise. This just privilege has of late given great umbrage to some 
interested, powerful individuals of the more potent part of the 
empire, and they have spared no wicked pains, under insidious 
pretexts, to subvert what they dared not openly to attack, from the 
dread which they yet entertained of the spirit of their ancient 
enemies. 

In this conspiracy we fell ; nor did we alone suffer — our country 
was deeply wounded. A number of (we will say) respectable indi- 
viduals, largely engaged in trade, where we were not only useful, 
but absolutely necessary to our country in her dearest interests : we, 
with all that was near and dear to us, were sacrificed without 
remorse to the infernal deity of political expediency ! We fell to 
gratify the wishes of dark envy, and the views of unprincipled 
ambition ! Your foes, sir, were avowed ; were too brave to take an 
ungenerous advantage : you fell in the face of day. On the contrary, 
our enemies, to complete our overthrow, contrived to make their 
guilt appear the villainy of a nation. Your downfall only drags with 
you your private friends and partisans : in our misery are more or 
less involved the most numerous and most valuable part of the 
community— all those who immediately depend on the cultivation 
of the soil, from the landlord of a province down to his lowest hind. 

Allow us, sir, yet further, just to hint at another rich vein of 
comfort in the dreary regions of adversity — the gratulations of an 
approving conscience. In a certain great assembly, of which you 
are a distinguished member, panegyrics on your private virtues have 
so often wounded your delicacy, that we shall not distress you with 
anything on the subject. There is, however, one part of your 
public conduct which our feelings will not permit us to pass in 



294 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS* 

silence j our gratitude must trespass on your modesty: we mean, 
worthy sir, your whole behaviour to the Scots distillers. In evil 
hour's, when obtrusive recollection presses bitterly on the sense, let 
that, sir, come like a healing angel, and speak the peace to your 
soul which the world can neither give nor take away. "VVe have 
the honour to be, sir, your sympathising fellow-sufferers and grateful 
humble servants, John Barleycorn, Prases. 



TO MR ALEXANDER FINDLATER, 

SUPERVISOR OF EXCISE, DUMFRIES. 

Sir — Enclosed are the two schemes. I would not have troubled 
you with the collector's one, but for suspicion lest it be not right. 
Mr Erskine promised me to make it right, if you will have the 
goodness to shew him how. As I have no copy of the scheme for 
myself, and the alterations being very considerable from what it was 
formerly, I hope that I shall have access to this scheme I send you 
when I come to face up my new books. So much for schemes. And 
that no scheme to betray a priend, or mislead a stranger; to 
seduce a young girl, or rob a hen-roost ; to subvert liberty, or 
bribe an exciseman ; to disturb the general assembly, or annoy a 
gossipping; to overthrow the credit of orthodoxy, or the authority 
of old songs; to oppose your wishes, or frustrate my hopes — may 
prosper — is the sincere wish and prayer of E. B. 



PIECES DOUBTFULLY ATTRIBUTED TO BUMS. 



THE HERMIT. 



■WRITTEN ON A MARBLE SIDEBOARD, IN THE HERMITAGE BELONGING TO THE DUKE OP 
ATHOLE, IN THE WOOD OF ABERFELDY. 

Whoe'er thou art, these lines now reading-, 
Think not, though from the world receding, 
I joy my lonely days to lead in 

This desert drear ; 
That fell remorse a conscience bleeding 

Hath led me here. 

No thought of guilt my bosom sours; 
Free-will' d I fled from courtly bowers ; 
For well I saw in halls and towers 

That lust and pride, 
The arch-fiend's dearest, darkest powers, 

In state preside. 

I saw mankind with vice incrusted; 
I saw that honour's sword was rusted; 
That few for aught but folly lusted; 
That he was still deceived who trusted 

To love or friend; 
And hither came, with men disgusted, 

My life to end. 

In this lone cave, in garments lowly, 

Alike a foe to noisy folly, 

And brow-bent gloomy melancholy, 

I wear away 
My life, and in my office holy 

Consume the day. 

This rock my shield, when storms arc blowing, 
The limpid streamlet yonder flowing 
Supplying drink, the earth bestowing 

My simple food ; 
But few enjoy the calm I know in 
This desert wood. 



296 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Content and comfort bless me more in 

This grot, than e'er I felt before in 

A palace — and with thoughts still soaring 

To God on high, 
Each night and morn with voice imploring, 

This wish I sigh : 

1 Let me, O Lord ! from life retire, 
Unknown each guilty worldly fire, 
Remorse's throb, or loose desire ; 

And when I die, 
Let me in this belief exnire — 

To God ffly.' 

Stranger, if full of youth and riot, 
And yet no grief has marred thy quiet, 
Thou haply throw'st a scornful eye at 

The hermit's prayer — 
But if thou hast good cause to sigh at 

Thy fault or care ; 

If thou hast known false love's vexation, 
Or hast been exiled from thy nation, 
Or guilt affrights thy contemplation, 

And makes thee pine, 
Oh ! how must thou lament thy station, 

And envy mine ! 



THE VOWELS: 



'Twas where the birch and sounding thong are plied, 

The noisy domicile of pedant pride ; 

Where Ignorance her darkening vapour throws, 

And Cruelty directs the thickening blows; 

Upon a time, Sir Abece the great, 

In all his pedagogic powers elate, 

His awful chair of state resolves to mount, 

And call the trembling vowels to account. 

First entered A, a grave, broad, solemn wight, 
But, ah ! deformed, dishonest to the sight ! 
His twisted head looked backward on his way, 
And flagrant from the scourge he grunted, < il 

Reluctant, E stalked in ; with piteous race 
The justling tears ran down his honest face! 



PIECES DOUBTFULLY ATTRIBUTED TO BUENS. 297 

That name, that well-worn name, and all his own. 
Pale he surrenders at the tyrant's throne ! 
The pedant stifles keen the Roman sound 
Not all his mongrel diphthongs ean compound ; 
And next the title following close behind, 
He to the nameless, ghastly wretch assigned. 

The cobwebbed Gothic dome resounded, Y ! 
In sullen vengeance, I, disdained reply : 
The pedant swung his felon cudgel round, 
And knocked the groaning vowel to the ground ! 

In rueful apprehension entered 0, 

The wailing minstrel of despairing wo ; 

Th' Inquisitor of Spain the most expert, 

Might there have learnt new mysteries of his art; 

bo grim, deformed, with horrors entering, U 

His dearest friend and brother scarcely knew ! 

As trembling U stood staring all aghast, 
The pedant in his left hand clutched him fast, 
In helpless infants' tears he dipped his right, 
Baptised him eu, and kicked him from his sight 



ON PASTORAL POETRY. 

Hail Poesie ! thou Nymph reserved ! 

In chase o' thee, what crowds hae swerved 

Frae common-sense, or sunk ennerved 

7 Mang heaps o' clavers ; babblings 

And och! ower aft thy joes hae starved, 

Mid a' thy favours ! 

Say, Lassie, why thy train amang, 
While loud, the trump's heroic clang, 
And sock or buskin skelp alang 

To death or marriage , 
Scarce ane lias tried the shepherd-sang 

But wi' miscarriage % 

In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives; 

Eschylus' pen Will Shakspeare drives; 

Wee Pope, the knurlin, 'till him rives dwarf 

Horatian fame ; 
In thy sweet sang, Barbauld, survives 

E'en Sappho's flame, 



298 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

But thee, Theocritus, wha matches ? 
They're no herd's ballats, Maro's catches; 
Squire Pope but busks his skinklin patches 

0' heathen tatters : 
I pass by hunders, nameless wretches, 

That ape their betters. 

In this braw age o' wit and lear, 
"Will nane the Shepherd's whistle mair 
Blaw sweetly in its native air 

And rural grace ; 
And wi' the far-famed Grecian share 

A rival place ? 

Yes ! there is ane ; a Scottish callan — 

There 's ain ; come forrit, honest Allan ! 

Thou need na jouk behint the hallan, skull; doo* 

A chiel sae clever ; 
The teeth o' time may gnaw Tantallan, 

But thou's for ever! 

Thou paints auld nature to the nines, 

In thy sweet Caledonian lines ; 

Nae gowden stream through myrtles twines, 

Where Philomel, 
"While nightly breezes sweep the vines, 

Her griefs ^11 tell! 

In gowany glens thy burnie strays, 
Where bonnie lasses bleach their claes ; 
Or trots by hazelly shaws and braes, 

Wi' hawthorns grey, 
Where blackbirds join the shepherd's lays 

At close o' day. 

Thy rural loves are nature's sel' ; 

Nae bombast spates o' nonsense swell ; floods 

Nae snap conceits, but that sweet spell 

0' witchin' love ; 
That charm that can the strongest quell, 

The sternest move. 



APPENDIX. 



No. 13. — Reputation op Burns in his Latter Years. 

' A bent tree is not to be drawn as a straight one ; or the truth of history 
vanishes, and its use as a discipline of knowledge and of wisdom. Hence the 
representation of my friend's life is unsatisfactory. By the omission of certain 
portions, it might easily have been made to appear more satisfactory ; but then it 
would have been a lie : and every lie — O that people would believe it ! — is at best 
but a whited sepulchre.' — Hare's Life of Sterling. 

The habits of Burns during his latter years in Dumfries have been 
the subject of much controversy, and two very decided views of the 
matter have been taken. We hear, on the one hand, of a life of dissi- 
pation. Dr Currie, whose wish was to speak as mildly as might be 
possible without calling forth exposures by the enemies of the poet, 
uses the expression : ' Perpetually stimulated by alcohol in one or 
other of its various forms.' And he adds : ' He who suffers the pollu- 
tion of inebriation, how shall he escape other pollution ?' Even the 
notice of Burns's death, which appeared in the most respectable of 
the Edinburgh newspapers, contains this sentence : ' The public, to 
whose amusement he has so largely contributed, will learn with 
regret, that his extraordinaiy endowments were accompanied with 
frailties which rendered them useless to himself and his family.' 
Heron, who wrote the first memoir of the poet's life, says : ' In 
Dumfries, his dissipation became still more habitual [that is, than it 

had been in the country] The morals of the town were not 

a little corrupted, and, though a husband and a father, Burns did not 
escape suffering by the general contamination, in a manner which I 
forbear to describe.' On the other hand, strong testimonies in favour 
of Burns's conduct during this period have been set forth by his 
superior officer, Mr Alexander Findlater, and by the Reverend James 
Cray, who was schoolmaster to the poet's sons. 

Mr Findlater says: ' My connection with Robert Burns commenced 
immediately after his admission into the Excise, and continued to 
the hour of his death. In all that time, the superintendence of his 
behaviour, as an officer of the revenue, was a branch of my especial 
province, and it may be supposed I would not be an inattentive 
observer of the general conduct of a man and a poet so celebrated 
by Ins countrymen. In the former capacity, he was exemplary in 
his attention; and was even jealous of the least imputation on his 



300 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

vigilance it was not till near the end of his days that there was 

any falling off in this respect ; and this was amply accounted for by 
the pressure of disease and accumulating infirmities. I will further 
avow, that I never saw him — which was very frequently while he 
lived at Ellisland, and still more so after he removed to Dumfries — ■ 
but in hours of business he was quite himself, and capable of discharg- 
ing the duties of his office : nor was he ever known to drink by him- 
self, or seen to indulge in the use of liquor in a forenoon That 

when set down in an evening with a few friends whom he liked, he 
was apt to prolong the social hour beyond the bounds which prudence 
would dictate, is unquestionable ; but in his family, I will venture to 
say, he was never seen otherwise than attentive and affectionate in a 
high degree.' 

Mr Gray's testimony is to much the same purpose. He was inti- 
mate with Burns in his last years, and saw him frequently. ' It is 
not to be denied,' says Mr Gray, ' that he sometimes mingled with 
society unworthy of him. He was of a social and convivial nature. 
He was courted by all classes of men for the fascinating powers of 
his conversation, but over his social scene uncontrolled passion never 

presided Burns was seldom intoxicated. The drunkard soon 

becomes besotted, and is shunned even by the convivial. Had he 
been so, he could not long have continued the idol of every party. 
It came under my own view professionally, that he superintended 
the education of his children with a degree of care that I have never 
seen surpassed by any parent in any rank of life whatever. In the 
bosom of his family, he spent many a delightful hour in directing 
the studies of his eldest son, a boy of uncommon talents. I have 
frequently found him explaining to this youth, then not more than 
nine years of age, the English poets from Shakspeare to Gray, or 
storing his mind with examples of heroic virtue, as they live in the 
pages of our most celebrated English historians. I would ask any 
person of common candour, if employments like these are consistent 
with habitual drunkenness ? ' l 

1 ' He was a kind and attentive father, and took great delight in spending his 
evenings in the cultivation of the minds of his children. Their education was the 
grand object of his life, and he did not, like most parents, think it sufficient to send 
them to public schools ; he was their private instructor, and even at that early age, 
bestowed great pains in training their minds to habits of thought and reflection, 
and in keeping them pure from every form of vice. This he considered as a sacred 
duty, and never, to the period of his last illness, relaxed in his diligence. With 
his eldest son, a boy of not more than nine years of age, he had read many of the 
favourite poets, and some of the best historians in our language ; and what is more 
remarkable, gave him considerable aid in the study of Latin. This boy attended 
the Grammar School of Dumfries, and soon attracted my notice by the strength of 
his talent and the ardour of his ambition. Before he had been a year at school, 
I thought it right to advance him a form, and he began to read Caesar, and gave 
me translations of that author of such beauty as I confess surprised me. On inquiry, 
I found that his father made him turn over his dictionary, till he was able to trans- 
late to him the passage in such a way that he could gather the author's meaning, 
and that it was to him he owed that polished and forcible English with which I was 
so greatly struck. I have mentioned this incident merely to shew what minute 
attention he paid to this important branch cf parental duty.' — Letter from the 
Meverend James Gray to Mr Gilbert Burns. See his edition, vol. i. Appendix, No. v. 



APPENDIX. SOI 

The poet's widow was amongst the most earnest of his defenders. 
"Whatever might have been the aberrations of Burns on some points 
deeply concerning conjugal peace, his amiable partner had no charge 
to make against him. The penitence he had himself expressed, and 
the invariable tenderness of his conduct towards herself, had saved 
him from all reprobation in that quarter. Mrs Burns always repre- 
sented the convivial habits of her husband as greatly exaggerated by 
report. She asserted, that she had never once known him return 
home at night so greatly affected by liquor but that he was able, as 
usual, to see that the house was secure, and to take off his own clothes 
without assistance. 

To the perplexity arising from all this conflicting testimony, the 
conduct of Mr Gilbert Burns adds not a little. When Dr Currie's 
memoir came out, the brother of the poet expressed himself as 
perfectly satisfied with it, and for several years he uttered no remon- 
strance against the admissions which it had made with respect to 
Robert Burns's habits. In 1816, he announced his intention of enter- 
ing a defence of his brother against the unjust or exaggerated 
picture which Dr Currie had drawn ; and when this announcement 
drew a somewhat indignant notice from Mr Roscoe, as the friend 
of the late Dr Currie, Gilbert accounted for the apparent incon- 
sistency of his conduct by saying that, having seen little of his 
brother for some years, and consequently knowing little about his 
habits at Dumfries, he had been unable to say anything in contradic- 
tion of what Dr Currie had stated; but now, knowing from the 
testimony of Mr Fiudlater and Mr Gray that the poet had been 
misrepresented, he felt it to be his duty, with all grateful deference 
to the memory of the biographer, to vindicate his brother's memory. 
He acted upon this feeling of duty by publishing, in his edition of 
the poet's works in 1820, the letters of Mr Findlater and Mr Gray, 
as being all-sufficient to clear the name of Robert Burns from the 
stigma which had been fastened upon it by Currie. 

The same defensive tone has been assumed by various subsequent 
writers, and by none with greater force of language than by Professor 
Wilson. 1 Indeed, the modern fashion is to write of Burns as if he 
had been a man of comparatively temperate and pure life, Avho had 
been remarkably unfortunate in his early biographers. 

The subject is a difficult and a critical one; but I believe it may 
be possible to admit the truth of what is directly advanced by Find- 
later and Gray, and yet to see that the original representations of 
Burns's character were not so unfaithful to truth as has been assumed. 

It is, I believe, incontestable, that Burns was a good and efficient 
officer, always fit for duty during the business part of the day, never 
known to drink by himself or to indulge in liquor in the forenoon. 
It is also true that he was amiable in his private domestic relations. 
Such are the positive averments of Findlater. Mr Gray says ho 
w;ts not a habitual drunkard, which is nearly the same thing that 
Findlater has advanced ; and he draws a delightful picturo of the 
1 Essay on the Genius and Character of Burns, Land of Burns, HMO. 



302 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

poet's habits in his family, inferring that one who took so great a 
charge of his son's education, and whose mind was so clear in the 
morning, could have no habits which society is entitled to condemn. 
The facts advanced by Mr Gray may be admitted, but the illogical 
character of his inference is palpable. 

There is not, in reality, anything in Findlater and Gray's state- 
ments which denies that Burns, in his latter years at Dumfries, did 
indulge in tavern and other convivialities to a degree which even for 
that age was excess. On the contrary, these gentlemen make admis- 
sions pretty much to that effect. Neither do they positively deny, 
what is hinted at by Currie, that our bard descended even lower 
in the scale of sensual habits. All that they can fairly be said to 
do, is to refute the notion, whether arising from Currie's memoir 
or in any other way, that Burns was a habitual drunkard. 

What, then, was the fact ? From all that can now be learned 
on respectable testimony, I believe it to have been this : Robert 
Burns never at any period of his life was habitually under the 
influence of a love of liquor; he never was, properly speaking, its 
victim : on this point the statements of Dr Currie are certainly 
unjust towards the name of Burns. Our bard was nevertheless 
facile towards social enjoyment, and had himself an immense power 
of promoting it. Wherever he lived, he naturally fell among the 
gay and good-natured part of society, and he unavoidably partook 
of their convivialities, and even, latterly at least, helped to encourage 
the replenishment of the bowl and the pulling of the fresh bottle — 
not that he cared much for the liquor, but that, once involved in 
the flow of merriment, he did not like to interrupt it by leaving 
the table. Thus, while he was far from being a regular toper, his 
occasional convivialities occurred, during the latter years of his life, 
with a degree of frequency, and were carried to a degree of excess, 
which were much to be deplored. It did not matter much, per- 
haps, that there was no indulgence before the early dinner hour 
of that time and place — which was three o'clock — if he very often 
spent the evenings over the bowl, and not unfrequently prolonged 
the merry-making past the midnight hour. It may be asked what 
is meant by very often ; and this it is not easy to answer. But that 
our bard spent too many evenings in this way for the comfort of his 
family, for his own health and peace of mind, and for the preserva- 
tion of his dignity as a man and a poet, I believe to be only too 
true. Nor was this all, for that co-ordinate debasement to which Dr 
Currie alludes, was not escaped. Let God judge him, a being formed 
in frailty, and inspired with wild and misdirected impulses ; not I. 
But so is the fact. 

Let it be observed, however — though, in following tastes so 
depraved, Burns necessarily came in contact with persons of both 
sexes utterly unworthy of his society, and latterly would associate 
with individuals of such a character as would, on a full explanation, 
astonish the admirers of his genius — yet he never reached nor even 
approached that point where a respect for external decency is lost. 



APPENDIX. 303 

He preserved, as far as he could, the air, and performed the 
duties, of a vigilant government officer and respectable head 
of a family. He wrote, spoke, and walked about the daylight 
streets and ways, as a man knowing the value of character 
in the eye of the world. Incautious as he was in many things, 
he had yet sufficient tact to abstain from allusions to the coarse 
merry-making, and the worse debauches which sometimes followed, 
before those who, being comparatively pure themselves, were 
sure to have no sympathetic relish for such things. And thus it 
was that Gray — himself a man of irreproachable life and conversa- 
tion — had no opportunity of knowing Burns in the whole of his 
character and habits. Neither, perhaps, had Findlater, with whom, 
as a superior officer whose good opinion was of consequence, he 
must have wished in an especial manner to stand well. To many, 
the actual tastes of the poet were sufficiently well known ; and it 
was of course impossible in a country town to keep his name entirely 
out of the mouth of scandal. But society is never very severe with 
those who pay it the homage of a regard to appearances, and Burns 
was quite the man whom it would wish to spare as much as possible. 
He was a kind of lion in that little town — a great man in one sense, 
and a man of many excellent properties. The very humility of his 
position, as something beneath his deserts, excited a feeling in his 
behalf. His over-convivial habits, his frequent coarseness of speech, 
his more than suspected aberrations, were therefore regarded by the 
great bulk of the community with a certain degree of tenderness. 
And hence, while he on his part seemed to have no idea of being much 
of a reprobate, the society which surrounded him was not unwilling 
to take him as far as possible for what he seemed. Another circum- 
stance tending to keep up a certain reputableness about Burns, was 
the extraordinary attractiveness of his conversation. Men, and 
women too, of the upper and more refined circles, who might know 
that he fell into not un frequent excesses, were nevertheless anxious 
for the pleasure of his society. For this they overlooked and 
tolerated much which would have made them comparatively cold 
towards other men. It is therefore true, that he never was without 
some friends among these upper circles. 

On the whole, then, it appears that there are some grounds for the 
ill repute which so lamentably invested the name of our great poet 
for some years after his death, though the facts of the case have 
been to some extent misstated, and even, it may be said, exaggerated. 
An endeavour has here been made to state the truth; and if it 
appear to press more severely on the name of our great national poet 
than was anticipated, I can only say on my own behalf, that I have 
taken pains to ascertain it, and to put down nothing less or more 
— humbly hoping that, where there is so much to admire, the 
admission of that which must be reprobated still leaves us a 
grand figure under the worshipped name of Burns; but it is at all 
events certain, that any other than a faithful view of the character of 
the man — that is, a view comprehending the shades as well as the 



304 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



brightnesses — would be an imperfect thing, a moral torso, most 
unsatisfactory to all judicious minds, and not capable, in the long- 
run, of imposing upon anybody. 



No. 14. — Subscriptions for Bdkns's Family. 

LIST IN EDINBURGH NEWSPAPERS, AUGUST 23, 1796. 
Subscribed in Dumfriesshire, L.104, 12s. 



Sir James Hall, . 


L.5 


5 





Lord Meadowbank, 


1 


1 





Prof. D. Stewart, 


3 


3 





Dr Duncan, 


1 


1 





Mr Mundell, . 


1 


1 





James Gibson, Esq., 


1 


1 





Mrs Dunlop of Dunlop, 2 


2 





Mr Fergusson of Banks, 2 


2 





Major Duff, 


1 


1 





Wm. Dunbar, W. S., 


1 


1 





Jn. Carmichael, Esq., 


of 






Skirling, 


1 


1 





Sir J. Sinclair, Bart., 


1 


1 





Mr James Innes, 


2 


2 





Mr Henry Raeburn, 


2 


2 





Mr A. Cunningham, 


2 


2 





Mr Geo. Thomson, . 


2 


2 





Mr Rob. Cleghorn, 


2 


2 





Mrs Cleghorn, 


1 


1 





Mr John Allan, . 


2 


2 





Mr Rob. Wight, 


2 


2 





Mr John Haig, . 


2 


2 





Mr Robert Walker, . 





10 


6 


Mr Barclay Fyffe, 


2 


2 






[A second list, amounting to L 



The Right Hon. the Earl 
of Selkirk, . L.5 

Mr Wm. Robertson, Re- 
gister Office, . 

Mr W. Inglis, W. S., 

Mr E. Balfour, . 

James Gordon, 

Mr Inglis, 

A Gentleman, 

A Foreigner, 

Arch. Constable, , . 

W. Handyside, W. S., 

Mr G. RusseJ, wr., 

Mr T. Potts, Kelso, 

Mr Alex. Mackenzie, 
writer, 

Mrs Spalding, 

Mr Wm. Creech, 

Mr Kerr, G. P. 0., . 

Mr Wm. Dallas, . 

Rev. Dr Greenfield, . 

The Boys of Mr Cririe's 
Class in the High 
School, . . 1 

52, 10s. has not been recovered.] 



5 



1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





10 


6 


10 


6 


1 





10 


6 


5 


6' 


1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





10 


G 


5 5 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 






1 



April 4, 1797- 
Amount of former Subscriptions, L.119, 9s. 

SUBSCRIBERS CONTINUED. 



Mr Woods, ' Theatre- 
' royal, . . L.l 1 

Mr Kemble, Theatre- 
royal, . . 2 2 
Receipt of Benefit at the 

Theatre, . 32 1 

John Fergusson, Esq., 

Calcutta, . 10 10 

Robt. Ainslie,Esq.,W.S.,2 2 
Mr George Brown, . 10 6 
The Rev. Mr White, 1 1 



Subscription' from Mrs 

Patei^son's Inn, . L.l 
Mrs Fletcher, Queen's 

Street, . . 1 

Mrs Cathcart, Castle 

Street, . . 1 

A. W., . . 

Mr Johnson, engraver, 4 
Mr Hume of Wedder- 

burn, . . 2 

James Graham, Esq., 1 



1 



1 



1 





5 











2 





) 






APPENDIX. 



LONDON LIST, AT CLOSE OP SUBSCRIPTION, MAY 1800. 
Subscriptions, L.122, 17s. 



Lord de Dunstanville, L.5 

Thomson Bonar, . 5 

James Shaw, . 5 

Robert Shedden, . 5 

James Mackenzie, 5 

Peter Laurie, . 5 

John M'Taggart, 5 

David Hunter, . 5 

J. K. Miller, . 5 

Duncan Hunter, . 5 

John Inglis, . 5 

J. Mayne, . . 5 

Adam Lymbourner, 5 

Colonel Blair, . 3 

John J. Angerstein, . 2 

John Anderson, . 2 

Robert Burns, . 2 

James Brymer, . 2 

Dr Moore, . . 2 

David Shaw, . 2 
W. Parker (Montreal), 2 
Captain R. Gordon, 71st 



Regt., . 
Matthew Boyd, 
William Boyd, . 
Charles Ferguson, 
John Grey, 
James Innes, 
John Eraser, 
James Duff, . 
Robert Hunter, . 
John Rae, 
T. Reid, . 
J. Irving, 
Thomas Main, 
John Younger, 
J. Parker, 
William Watson, 
Mr Tweedy, 
Henry Thompson, 
A. Learrhonth, . 
Robert Service, 
John Heathcote, 
Adam Bell, . 
J. F. Throckmorton, 



5 





5 





5 





5 





5 





5 





5 





5 





5 





5 





5 





5 





5 





3 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





2 





1 





1 





1 





1 





1 





1 





1 





1 





1 





1 








6 



J. Campbell, Tnverary, L.O 
William Douglas, 
Samuel Douglas, 
James Douglas, 
William Borredaile, 
Hugh Mair, . 
Wm. Walker, Birming- 



ham, . 
Alex. Walker, ditto, 
Capt. Errol Boyd, 
Rn. Borradaile, 
William Pratt, . 
John Maitland, 
Robert Buchannan, 
Arch. Tod, 
James Walker, 
Joseph Berwick, 
Charles Hornyold, 
Colonel A. Gammell 
James Fairlee, 
John Walker, 
Peter Swanson, 
James Colquhoun, 
Alex. Riddell, 
Edward Boyd, 
James Ketland, 
John Paterson, 
John Gillespie, . 
Robert Cowie, 
Samuel Lenox, . 
John Bannatyne, 
William Barclay, 
Arch. Mackean, 
John Scott, 
George Morrison, 
George Munro, . 
Thomas Gordon, 
James Forsyth, . 
James Bell, . 
Mark Sprott, 
Wm. Duguld, 
C. Harper, 
Wm. Ogilvy, jun., 
John Auldjo, 
Miss Henderson, Dub., 



1 

1 

1 

1 

1 

1 

1 

1 



1 

1 

1 

1 

1 

1 

1 

1 

1 



1 
1 
1 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



C. Bellen, . 
Mr Taaffe, 
James Dawson, 
James Inglis, 
William Urquharfc, 
David Maitland, . 
R. Hamilton, 
J. Anderson, sen., 
A. Glennie, . 
Hugh Bethune, . 
George Service, 
Cochran M'Clure, 
Samuel Donaldson, 
Joseph Rodgers, . 
Robert Ewing, 
"William Graham, 
George Reid, 
Peter Swanson, 

Donation, . 
H. S. Dickey, . 
Rt. Anderson, 
J. G. Gerrard, 
George Lyon, 
William Christie, 
Jos. Lachlan, 
John Lyall, 



. L 



second 



.1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 





1 1 


o 



Total, 



Alexander Begbee, . L.l 


1 





John Tait, . 1 


1 





James Smith, . 1 


1 


D 


Thomas Pinkerton, 1 


1 





Robert Arthur, . 1 


1 





A. M. Bennett, . 1 


1 





Alexander Harper, . 1 


1 





R. Haden, . 1 


1 





Thomas Bell, . 1 


1 





Edward Penman, 1 


1 





Malcolm Ross, . 1 


1 





J. Parish, jun., Hambro', 1 


1 





Joseph Forsyth, . 1 


1 





Alexander Ross, jun., 1 


1 





George Glenny, . 1 


1 





Thomas Watson, 1 


1 





David Maitland, . 1 


1 





Dividend on L.400 Stock 






for half a year, pay- 






able in Oct. 1797, 6 








Ditto in April 1798, . 6 








Ditto in October 1798, 6 








Ditto in April 1799, 6 








Ditto in October 1799, 6 








Ditto on L.500, April 






1800, . . . 7 10 





. . . L.267 


9 






Mr James Shaw, subsequently Sir James Shaw, and chamberlain 
of London, took upon himself the whole trouble connected with the 
subscription in the metropolis. He purchased L.400 of the 3 per cent. 
Reduced Stock in June 1797 at L.50|, and L.100 of the same stock in 
October 1799 at L.59 ; and this L.500 of stock was transferred in May 
1800 to the magistrates of Ayr for the benefit of the poet's family. 

'Mr Alderman Shaw, of London, an Ayrshire gentleman, some 
time after the death of our admired poet, patronised a subscription 
for the benefit of his widow and children. The sum so raised was 
vested in the 3 per cent, annuities, and amounted to L.500 of that 
stock. Last week, the alderman being in company with Sir Francis 
Baring, the conversation turned on Burns and the circumstances of 
his family. . The worthy baronet, who is a warm admirer of our 
poet, requested that he also might have the honour of being a con- 
tributor, and immediately put into his hands L.100, which was also 
bought into the same stock, and the receipts sent to the magis- 
trates; and with the L.500 makes L.676, 19s. lOd. 3 per cents., 
standing in the name of the provost and bailies of the town of 
Ayr, for the benefit of the widow and children of Robert Burns.' — 
Ntivspapzr Paragraph, 1804. ■ 



APPENDIX. 307 

Another paragraph, of apparently little later date, is as follows : — 
'It had lately come to the knowledge of Mr Alderman ShaAv, 
London, that Burns had left two daughtei's, natural children, who 
have not hitherto benefited by the liberality of the public to their 
father's family ; which induced that gentleman, whose active bene- 
volence in behalf of this family is well known, to renew a subscription 
among a few friends for making a small provision for the destitute 
girls. The subscriptions have amounted to L.310, lis., at the head 
of which is fifty guineas from William Fairlie, Esq., Calcutta. With 
this sum, L.523 have been purchased in the reduced 3 per cents., 
which, added to that already purchased in the same fund, and 
together standing in the name of the provost and bailies of the town 
of Ayr, makes a total of L.1200, of which L.800 is to be appropriated 
to the use of Mrs Burns and her three sons, and L.400 to the use of 
the two girls ; one moiety payable to each on marriage, or on 
attaining the age of twenty-one ; and in the event of either of them 
dying under these periods, the moiety due to her to go to the 
survivor.' 

The two girls here referred to were : Elizabeth Burns, the daughter 
of Elizabeth Paton (i., 87) — born in 1784 — who became the wife of 
Mr John Bishop, overseer at Polkemmet, and died in December 1816, 
aged thirty-two ; and Elizabeth Burns, the daughter of Anne Park, 

born 31st March 1791 (iii., 260), and who became the wife of 

Thomson, weaver, Pollockshaws. 



No. 15. — The Cranium of Burns. 

At the opening of the Mausoleum, March 1834, for the interment 
of Mrs Burns, it was resolved by some citizens of Dumfries, with 
the concurrence of the nearest relative of the widow, to raise the 
cranium of the poet from the grave, and have a cast moulded from 
it, with a view to gratifying the interest likely to be felt by the 
students of phrenology respecting its peculiar development. This 
purpose was carried into effect during the night between the 31st 
March and the 1st April, and the following is the description of the 
cranium, drawn up at the time by Mr A. Blacklock, surgeon, one of 
the individuals present: — ■ 

' The cranial bones were perfect in every respect, if we except a 
little erosion of their external table, and firmly held together by 
their suturefl ; even the delicate bones of the orbits, with the trifling 
exception of the os unguis in the left, were sound, and uninjured by 
death and the grave. The superior maxillary bones still retained 
the four most posterior teeth on each side, including the den tea 
sapiential, and all without spot or blemish; the incisures, cuspidati, 
&c, had in all probability recently dropped from the jaw, for the 
alveoli were but little decayed. The bones of the face and palate 



308 LIFE AND WOEKS OF BURNS. 

•were also sound. Some small portions of black hair, with a very 
few gray hairs intermixed, were observed while detaching some 
extraneous matter from the occiput. Indeed, nothing could exceed 
the high state of preservation in which we found the bones of the 
cranium, or offer a fairer opportunity of supplying what has so long 
been desiderated by phrenologists — a correct model of our immortal 
poet's head : and in order to accomplish this in the most accurate 
and satisfactory manner, every particle of sand, or other foreign 
body, was carefully washed off, and the plaster of Paris applied with 
all the tact and accuracy of an experienced artist. The cast is 
admirably taken, and cannot fail to prove highly interesting to 
phrenologists and others. 

* Having completed our intention, the skull, securely enclosed in a 
leaden case, was again committed to the earth, precisely where we 
found it. Archd. Blacklock.' 

A cast from the skull having been transmitted to the Phrenological 
Society of Edinburgh, the following view of the cerebral development 
of Burns was drawn up by Mr George Combe, and published in 
connection with four views of the cranium ( W. and A. K. Johnston, 
Edinburgh) : — 

'I. — DIMENSIONS OF THE SKULL. 

Inchea. 

Greatest circumference, . . . 22£ 

From Occipital Spine to Individuality, over the top of the head, 14 

Ear to Ear vertically over the top of the head, . . .13 

Philoprogenitiveness to Individuality (greatest length), . . 8 

Coneentrativeness to Comparison, 7§ 

Ear to Philoprogenitiveness, 4f 

< — Individuality, ....*... 4f 

■ — Benevolence, 5k 

■ — Firmness, . 5k 

Destructiveness to Destructiveness, 5| 

■ Secretiveness to Secretiveness, 5% 

Cautiousness to Cautiousness, 5a 

Ideality to Ideality, 4§ 

Constructiveness to Constructiveness, 4£ 

Mastoid Process to Mastoid Process, 4| 

'II. — DEVELOPMENT OF THE ORGANS. 

Scale. 

1. Amativeness, rather large, 16 

2. Philoprogenitiveness, very large, 20 

3. Coneentrativeness, large, 18 

4. Adhesiveness, very large, 20 

5. Combativeness, very large, . . 20 

6. Destructiveness, large, 18 

7. Secretiveness, large, 19 

8. Acquisitiveness, rather large, . . ... . . .16 

9. Constructiveness, full, 15 

10. Self-Esteem, large, 18 

11. Love of Approbation, very large, 20 

12. Cautiousness, large, 19 



APPENDIX. 309 



13. Benevolence, very large, 20 

14. Veneration, large, 18 

15. Firmness, full, ......... 15 

16. Conscientiousness, full, 15 

17. Hope, full, 14 

18. Wonder, large, 18 

19. Ideality, large, 18 

20. Wit, or Mirthfulness, full, 15 

21. Imitation, large, . . . . . . ( . .19 

22. Individuality, large, 19 

23. Form, rather large, 16 

24. Size, rather large, 17 

25. Weight, rather large, 16 

26. Colouring, rather large, 16 

27. Localitv," large, 18 

28. Number, rather full, 12 

29. Order, full, 14 

30. Eventuality, large, 18 

31. Time, rather large, 16 

32. Tune, full, 15 

33. Language, uncertain. 

34. Comparison, rather large, 17 

35. Causality, large, 18 

' The scale of the organs indicates their relative -proportions to each 
other: 2 is idiocy; 10, moderate; 14, full; 18, large; and 20, very 
large. 

'The cast of a skull does not shew the temperament of the indi- 
vidual, but the portraits of Burns indicate the bilious and nervous 
temperaments, the sources of strength, activity, and susceptibility; 
and the descriptions given by his contemporaries of his beaming and 
energetic eye, and the rapidity and impetuosity of his manifestations, 
establish the inference that his brain was active and susceptible. 

' Size in the brain, other conditions being equal, is the measure of 
mental power. The skull of Burns indicates a large brain. The 
length is eight, and the greatest breadth nearly six inches. The 
circumference is 22|- inches. These measurements exceed the 
average of Scotch living heads, including the integuments, for which 
four-eighths of an inch may be allowed. 

* The brain of Burns, therefore, possessed the two elements of power 
and activity. 

' The portions of the brain which manifest the animal propensities, 
are uncommonly large, indicating strong passions, and great energy 
in action under their influence. The group of organs manifesting 
the domestic affections (Amativeness, Philoprogenitiveness, and 
Adhesiveness), is large ; Philoprogenitiveness uncommonly so for a 
male head. The organs of Combativeness and Destruetiveness are 
large, bespeaking great heat of temper, impatience, and liability to 
irritation. 

* Secretiveness and Cautiousness are both large, and would confer 
considerable power of restraint, where he felt restraint to be 
necessary. 



310 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



' Acquisitiveness, Self-Esteem, and Love of Approbation, are also 
in ample endowment, although the first is less than the other two ; 
these feelings give the love of property, a high consideration of self, 
and desire of the esteem of others. The first quality will not be so 
readily conceded to Burns as the second and third, which, indeed, 
were much stronger; but the phrenologist records what is presented 
by nature, in full confidence that the manifestations, when the 
character is correctly understood, will be found to correspond with 
the development, and he states that the brain indicates considerable 
love of property. 

' The organs of the moral sentiments are also largely developed. 
Ideality, Wonder, Imitation, and Benevolence, are the largest in size. 
"Veneration also is large. Conscientiousness, Firmness, and Hope, 
are full. 

' The Knowing organs, or those of perceptive intellect, are large ; 
and the organs of Reflection are also considerable, but less than the 
former. Causality is larger than Comparison, and Wit is less than 
either. 

' The skull indicates the combination of strong animal passions with 
equally powerful moral emotions. If the natural morality had been 
less, the endowment of the propensities is sufficient to have consti- 
tuted a character of the most desperate description. The combina- 
tion as it exists, bespeaks a mind extremely subject to contending 
emotions — capable of great good or great evil — and encompassed 
with vast difficulties in preserving a steady, even, onward course of 
practical morality. 

' In the combination of very large Philoprogenitiveness and 
Adhesiveness, with very large Benevolence and large Ideality, we 
find the elements of that exquisite tenderness and refinement, which 
Burns so frequently manifested, even when at the worst stage of his 
career. In the combination of great Combativeness, Destructiveness, 
and Self-Esteem, we find the fundamental qualities which inspired 
Scots wha hae wi 1 Wallace bled, and similar productions. 

' The combination of large Secretiveness, Imitation, and the percep- 
tive organs, gives the elements of his dramatic talent and humour. 
The skull indicates a decided talent for Humour, but less for Wit. 
The public are apt to confound the talents for Wit and Humour. 
The metaphysicians, however, have distinguished them, and in the 
phrenological works their different elements are pointed out. Burns 
possessed the talent for satire ; Destructiveness, added to the com- 
bination which gives Humour, produces it. 

'An unskilful observer looking at the forehead, might suppose it to 
be moderate in size ; but when the dimensions of the anterior lobe, 
in both length and breadth, are attended to, the Intellectual organs 
will be recognised to have been large. The anterior lobe projects so 
much, that it gives an appearance of narrowness to the forehead 
which is not real. This is the cause, also, why Benevolence appears 
to lie further back than usual. An anterior lobe of this magni- 
tude indicates great Intellectual power. The combination of large 



APPENDIX. 311 

Perceptive and "Reflecting- organs (Causality predominant), with 
large Concentrativeness and large organs of the feelings, gives 
that sagacity and vigorous common sense for which Burns was 
distinguished. 

' The skull rises high above Causality, and spreads wide in the 
region of Ideality ; the strength of his moral feelings lay in that 
region. 

' The combination of large organs of the Animal Propensities, with 
large Cautiousness, and only full Hope, together with the unfavour- 
able circumstances in which he was placed, accounts for the melan- 
choly and internal unhappiness with which Burns was so frequently 
afflicted. This melancholy was rendered still deeper by bad health. 

'The combination of Acquisitiveness, Cautiousness, Love of Appro- 
bation, and Conscientiousness, is the source of his keen feelings in 
regard to pecuniary independence. The great power of his Animal 
Propensities would give him strong temptations to waste; but the 
combination just mentioned would impose a powerful restraint. The 
head indicates the elements of an economical character, and it is 
known that he died free from debt, notwithstanding the smallness of 
his salary. 

']Xo phrenologist can look upon this head, and consider the circum- 
stances in which Burns was placed, without vivid feelings of regret. 
Burns must have walked the earth with a consciousness of great 
superiority over his associates in the station in which he was placed 
— of powers calculated for a far higher sphere than that which he 
was able to reach — and of passions which he could with difficulty 
restrain, and which it was fatal to indulge. If he had been placed 
from infancy in the higher ranks of life, liberally educated, and 
employed in pursuits corresponding to his powers, the inferior portion 
of his nature would have lost part of its energy, while his better 
qualities would have assumed a decided and permanent superiority.' 

A more elaborate paper on the skull of Burns appeared in the 
Phrenological Journal, No. XLL, from the pen of Mr Robert Cox. 
This gentleman endeavours to shew that the character of Burns 
was in conformity with the full development of acquisitiveness. 
' According to his own description,' says Mr Cox, ' he was a man 
who " had little art in making money, and still less in keeping it." 
That his art in making money was sufficiently moderate, there can 
be no doubt, for he was engaged in occupations which his soul loathed, 
and thought it below his dignity to accept of pecuniary remuneration 
for some of his most laborious literary performances. He was, how- 
ever, by no means insensible to the value of money, and never threw 
it away. On the contrary, he was remarkably frugal, except when 
feelings stronger than acquisitiveness came into play — such as 
benevolence, adhesiveness, and love of approbation ; the organs of 
all which are very large, while acquisitiveness is only rather large. 
Daring his residence at Mossgiel, where his revenue was not more 
than L.7, his expenses, as Gilbert mentions, " never in any one year 
exceeded his slender income." It is also well known, that he did not 



312 



LIFE AND ^YORKS OF BURNS. 



leave behind him a shilling of debt ; and I have learned from good 
authority, that his household was much more frugally managed at 
Dumfries than at Ellisland — as in the former place, but not in the 
latter, he had it in his power to exercise a personal control over the 
expenditure. I have been told also, that,- after his death, the 
domestic expenses were greater than when he was alive. These 
facts are all consistent with a considerable development of acquisi- 
tiveness, for, when that organ is small, there is habitual inattention 
to pecuniary concerns, even although the love of independence and 
dislike to ask a favour be strong. The indifference with respect to 
money which Burns occasionally ascribes to himself, appears, there- 
fore, to savour of affectation — a failing into which he was not unfre- 
quently led by love of approbation and secretiveness. Indeed, in one 
of his letters to Miss Chalmers, he expressly intimates a wish to be 
rich.' The whole of this essay is highly worthy of perusal by all 
who take an interest in the character of the Ayrshire bard. 



No. 16. — Bibliography of Burns. 



Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect. By Robert Burns. 

8vo, pp. 242. Kilmarnock : John Wilson, . .1786 

Poems, &c. 8vo, pp. "368. Edinburgh: Printed for the 

Author, and sold by William Creech. [With a Portrait], 1/87 
Poems, &c. Third Edition, Svo. London : A. Strachan, and 

W.Cadell; and Edinburgh: W. Creech, . . 1787 

Poems, &c. 12mo. Belfast: Printed and Sold by James 

Magee, ....... 1787 

[An Irish pirated edition, prefaced with an extract from the Lounger, No. 97.] 

Animadversions on some Poets and Poetasters of the Present 

Age, especially R[ober]t B[urn]s and J[oh]n L[aprai]k, 

with a Contrast with some of a former Age. By James 

Maxwell, Poet, Paisley, . . . . 1788 

Poems, &c. Edinburgh : W. Creech. . . [July], 1790 

Poems, &c. [containing nineteen new pieces.] 2 vols. 

small Svo. London : T. Cadell ; and Edinburgh : W. 

Creech. ..... [April], 1793 

Poems, &c. 2 vols. [Reprint of the above], . . 1794 

Poems, &c. [Reprint of the above], . . . 1797 

Some Account of the Life and Writings of Robert Burns, the 

Ayrshire Poet. [Article in Scots Magazine, Jan. 1797.] 

pp. 6. 
The Scots Musical Museum. 6 vols. 8vo. [Published between 

17S7 and 1803, by James Johnson, Engraver, Edinburgh. 

In this work are included 184 Songs, written or collected 

hy Burns.] 



APPENDIX. 313 

Same work, reprinted, with Notes by the late Mr William 
Stenhouse, and additional Illustrations [by David Laing.] 
6 vols. Edinburgh : Blackwood & Sons, . . 1839 

The Melodies of Scotland ; with Symphonies and Accompani- 
ments for the Pianoforte, Violin, &c. The Poetry chiefly 
by Burns. The whole collected by George Thomson, 
F.A.S.E. In 5 volumes [to which a 6th was finally added. 
Published between 1793 and 1841.] London: T. Preston; 
and Edinburgh : G. Thomson. 

[The songs by Burns in this work are 100 in number.] 

Liverpool Testimonials to the departed Genius of Robert 
Burns. 8vo. Liverpool. 

A Memoir of the Life of Robert Burns. [By Robert Heron.] 

8vo. Edinburgh, . . . . 1797 

The Works of Robert Burns ; with an Account of his Life, and 
a Criticism on his Writings : to which are prefixed some 
Observations on the Character and Condition of the Scottish 
Peasantry. 4 vols., 8vo. [The dedication is subscribed J. 
Currie, Liverpool, 1st May 1800.] Liverpool: Printed by 
J. M'Creery, for T. Cadell, Jun., and W. Davies, Strand, 
London ; and W. Creech, Edinburgh, . . . 1800 

Currie's Second Edition, .... 1801 

... Third Edition, . . . . .... 

... Fourth Edition, .... 1803 

... Fifth Edition, ..... 1806 

... Sixth Edition, .... 1809 

... Seventh Edition, ..... 1813 

Poems ascribed to Robert Burns, the Ayrshire Bard, mot 
contained in any Edition of his Works hitherto published. 
8vo, pp. 94. Glasgow : printed for Thomas Stewart, . 1801 

Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect. By Robert Burns. To 
which are added several other Pieces not contained in any 
former Edition of his Poems. 12mo. Glasgow : W. M'Millan, 1801 

Alonzo and Cora ; with other Original Poems, principally 
Elegies ; to which are added Letters in Verse, by Black- 
lock and Burns. By Elizabeth Scot, a native of Edinburgh. 
8vo. London, ...... 1801 

Letters Addressed to Clarinda. By Robert Burns, the 
Ayrshire Poet. Never before published. 12mo. Glasgow : 
T. Stewart, .*..... 1802 

Stewart's Edition of Burns's Poems : including a number 
of Original Pieces never before published. To which is 
added an Appendix, consisting of his Correspondence 
with Clarinda, &c. 18mo. Glasgow : T. Stewart, and 
A. Macgown, . ... 1802 

[Burns's Poetical Works : editions at this time (1S02) by 
M'Lellan, Glasgow ; Chapman, Glasgow ; Robertson, Edin- 
burgh ; Denham & Dick, Edinburgh ; Oliver & Boyd, 
Edinburgh; Ray, Dundee.] 
IV. o 



314 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

Crerar's Edition of Burns's Poems ; with his Life and Cha- 
racter. [Portrait and Plates by K. Scott.] 18mo, 2 vols. 
Kirkaldy : Crerar, . . . . 180? 

Information for Thomas Stewart, Bookseller in Greenock, 
against Messrs Cadell & Davies, and others. Answers for 
James Robertson, Printer in Edinburgh, to the Petition of 
Cadell & Davies, respecting the Printing and Publishing of 
the Letters to Olarinda, 4to. (2 pieces), . . 1803-4 

Burns's Cotter's Saturday Night. 12mo. Cupar-Fife, 1804 

The Poetical Works of Robert Burns: a New Edition, in- 
cluding the Pieces published in his Correspondence, with 
his Songs and Fragments. 3 vols., 18mo. London : Cadell 
& Davies, . . . . . 1804 

Nineteen Views in North Britain, illustrative of the Works of 
Robert Burns, Drawn and Engraved by James Storer and 
John Greig ; accompanied by a Sketch of the Poet's Life 
[abridged from Currie's Memoir.] Royal 8vo. London, 1805 

[Reprint of the above in quarto. London, . . 1S11] 

Letters addressed to Clarinda, &c, by Robert Burns. A new 
Edition. Printed for Archer & Ward, and D. Simms, 
Belfast, ....... 1806 

Reliques of Robert Burns ; consisting chiefly of Original 
Letters, Poems, and Critical Observations on Scottish 
Songs. Collected and Published by R. H. Cromek. London: 
Cadell & Davies, ..... 1808 

The Works of Robert Burns ; with his Life [numerous wood- 
cuts by Bewick, after Thurston. 2 vols. I2mo], . 1808 

Poems, Letters, &c, ascribed to Robert Burns, not in his 

Works. 12mo. London: Prout, . . . 1809 

The Life of Robert Burns, by David Irving, LL.D., pp. 60. 
[Forming part of Lives of the Scottish Poets, 2 vols.] 
London: Longman & Co., .... 1810 

Critique on Cromek's Reliques of Burns, Edinburgh Review, 
No. 26, Jan. 1809. [Written by Francis Jeffrey.] 

Critique on Cromek's Reliques of Burns, Quarterly Review, 
No. 1, Feb. 1809. [Written by Sir Walter Scott,] 

Select Scottish Songs, Ancient and Modern ; with Critical 
Observations and Biographical Notices, by Robert Burns. 
Edited by R. H. Cromek, F.A.S.E. 2 vols. London : 
" T. Cadell', . . . . . " 1810 

Burnomania ; the Celebrity of Robert Burns considered, in a 
Discourse addressed to all real Christians; with Epistles in 
Verse respecting Peter Pindar, Burns, &c, 12mo. Edin- 
burgh, . 1811 

Poems of Robert Burns; with an Account of his Life and 
Miscellaneous Remarks on his Writings [by Josiah Walker] ; 
containing also many Poems and Letters not printed in 
Dr Currie's edition. 2 vols. 8vo. [Plates by J. Burnet.] 
Edinburgh : Trustees of James Morison, . . 1811 



APPENDIX. 315 

An Account of the Life and Character of Robert Burns, with 
Miscellaneous Remarks on his Writings. Edinburgh : 
Trustees of James Morison, .... 1811 

[This is simply a separate publication of Dr Walker's contributions to 
the preceding work.] 

A Critique on the Poems of Robert Burns, illustrated by [24] 
Engravings [after Designs by J. Burnet.] 8vo. Edinburgh : 
Printed by John Brown for Bell & Bradfute, &c, . 1812 

Poems and Songs by Robert Burns ; with a Short Sketch of 
the Author's Life, and a Glossary. 24to [pp. 332.] Edin- 
burgh : Oliver & Boyd. N. D., but probably about . 1812 

Poems by Robert Burns. 2 vols., 8vo. [Price 21s.] London : 

Hamilton, . . . . . .1812 

*#* Another impression of the same in royal 8vo, 31s. 6d. 

Burns's Poems, 24to. London : Walker, . . 1813 

Poetical Works of Robert Burns. 24to. London : Cadell & 

Davies, ....... 1813 

Poetical Works of Robert Burns. 18mo. Edinburgh, 1814 

A Review of the Life and Writings of Robert Burns, and of 
various Criticisms on his Character and Writings. By 
Alexander Peterkin. 8vo. Edinburgh, . . 1814 

Works of Robert Burns, with Life by Currie. 5 vols., 18mo. 

[A scarce edition.] London, .... 1815 

Life and Works of Robert Burns, as originally edited by 
James Currie, M.D. ; to which is prefixed a Review of the 
Life of Burns, by Alexander Peterkin. 4 vols., 8vo. Edin- 
burgh, ...... 1815 

A Letter to a Friend of Robert Burns [James Gray, Esq.], 
occasioned by an Intended Republication of the Account of 
the Life of Burns by Dr Currie. By William Wordsworth. 
8vo. London, ...... 1816 

The Works of Robert Burns [reprint of Currie's edition.] 

4 vols., 12mo. Montrose: Smith & Hill, . . 1816 

The Works of Robert Burns [reprint of Currie's edition.] 

4 vols., 12mo. Edinburgh : William Sawers, . . 1818 

Works of Robert Burns [as edited by Currie], illustrated by 
24 Plates by Burnet [same as in Morison's edition.] 
4 vols. Edinburgh : Stirling & Slade, . . 1819 

The Prose Works of Robert Burns ; containing his Letters 
and Correspondence, Literary and Critical, and Amatory 
Epistles; including Letters to Clarinda, &c. ; with nine 
Engravings. 8vo, pp. 610. Newcastle: Mackenzie & Dent, 1819 

The Works of Robert Burns, with many additional Poems 

and Songs. 2 vols., 24to. Montrose, . . . 1S19 

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns; with a life of the Author, 
&c, by the Rev. Hamilton Paul. 12nio. [portrait and 
vignette.] Ayr-, ..... 1819 



316 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

"Works of Robert Burns [Currie's edition] ; with many 
Additions communicated by his Brother, Mr Gilbert 
Burns. 4 vols., 8vo. London : Cadell & Davies, . 1820 

Letters addressed to Clarinda. By Robert Burns. Glasgow : 

Chapman, ...... 1S20 

Poetical Works of Robert Burns ; with a Glossary and a 
Biographical Sketch of the Author. 2 vols., 96to. Diamond 
Edition. London : Jones & Co. [N. D., but probably about 
1820. Now published with fresh title-pages by W. S. Orr 
& Co.] 

The Poetical Works of Robert Burns. 2 vols. [Forming vols. 
32 and 33 of Whittingham's Cabinet Library.] London : 
Whittingham, . . . . . 1821 

Life of Robert Burns [forming part of the Lives of Eminent 

Scotsmen. 3 vols., 18mo. London: Boys, . . 1822] 

The Works of Robert Burns ; including his Letters to Cla- 
rinda, and the whole of his suppressed Poems. With an 
Essay on his Life, Genius, and Character. 4 vols., small 
ISmo. Printed for the Editor, by Richards & Co., London, 1821 

A Pilgrimage to the Land of Burns ; containing Anecdotes of 
the Bard, &c. [By Hugh Ainslie.] Crown 8vo. London: 
Sherwood, . . . . . 1S22 

The Poetical Works of Burns. 3 vols., 18mo. London: 

Cadell & Davies, ..... 1823 

Burns's Cotter's Saturday Night and other Poems. London: 

Sharpe, . . . . . . 1824 

Burns's Songs, chiefly Scottish. London : Sharpe, . 1824 

The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, the Ayrshire Bard; 
including all the Pieces originally published by Dr Currie, 
with various Additions. A New Edition, with an enlarged 
and Corrected Glossary, and a Biographical Memoir of 
the Author. Thin 8vo. London : Jones & Co., . 1824 

[The Life by Currie, and Prose Writings, printed uniformly, 
without titles, but with separate series of pages.] 

Poetical Works and Correspondence of Robert Burns. 1 vol., 

8vo. London: Jones & Co., .... 1826 

Letters to Clarinda, by Robert Burns, 12mo. Belfast, . 1826 

Works of Robert Burns ; containing his Poems, Letters, &c, 

with Life by Currie. 2 vols., 24to. London, . . 1826 

Life of Robert Burns. By J. G. Lockhart, LL.B. Edinburgh : 

Constable & Co., 1828 

[Constituting vol. xxiii. of Constable's Miscellany.] 

An Edition of this Work in 8vo, unconnected with the 

Miscellany. 
[A second and third edition, the latter containing some additions, 

subsequently appeared.] 

Critique on Lockhart's Life of Burns. Edinburgh Review, 
No. 96, Dec. 1828 [by Thomas Carlyle.] 



APPENDIX. 31? 

Unpublished Remains of Robert Burns, &c. Account of a 
lately -discovered Portrait, with Letters concerning it. 
[Article in Edinburgh Literary Gazette, Nov. 21, 1829.] 

More Information concerning Robert Burns. The New 
Portrait. [Article in Edinburgh Literary Journal, Dec. 5, 
1829.] 

Tarn o'Shanter ; a Tale. By Robert Burns. To which are 
added Observations on the Statues of Tarn o'Shanter and 
Souter Johnny, now exhibiting. [London] : Murray, 
printer, ...... [1829] 

Poetical Works of Robert Burns ; with a Memoir. 1 vol., 

24to. London : Joseph Smith, . . . 1830 

A Series of Twelve Illustrations of the Poems of Robert 
Burns, engraved on Steel by John Shury, from Original 
Paintings by William Kidd, Esq. Royal 8vo. London, 1832 

Works of Robert Burns; including his Letters to Clarinda, 
and the whole of his Suppressed Poems; with an Essay 
on his Life, Genius, and Character. [1 vol.] London: 
Wm. Clark, 1831 

The Entire Works of Robert Burns; with his Life, and a 
Criticism on his Writings, &c. By James Currie, M.D. 
The Four Volumes complete in One, with an Enlarged 
and Corrected Glossary. With 13 Engravings. Diamond 
Edition. London : Allan Bell & Co., . . . 1833 

[Several reprints of this edition have appeared. The seventh bears 
date 1842, with D. A. Borrenstein as publisher.] 

Works of Robert Burns ; with his Life by Allan Cunningham. 

8 vols. London : Cochrane and Macrone, . . 1834 
A Reprint of the above Work. 

4 vols. Boston [U. S.] : Hilliard, Gray, & Co., . 1834 

Works of Robert Burns. Edited by the Ettrick Shepherd 

and William Motherwell, Esq. 5 vols. Glasgow : 

Archibald Fullarton & Co., .... 1834 

The Widow of Burns ; her Death, Character, and Funeral. 

Dumfries : M'Diarmid & Co., .... 1834 

The Poetical Works of Robert Burns ; with a Life, Glossary, 

&c. 1 vol., 24to. London : Joseph Smith, . . 1834 

The Real Souter Johnny, &c. A Poem ; with Explanatory 

Notes and an Appendix. By Jock Jingleverb. (Pp. 24.) 

Maybole : M. Porteous, . . . . 1834 

Works [Currie's edition.] lvol.,8vo. Edin. : Nelson & Brown, 1835 
Landscape Illustrations to the first Complete and Uniform 

Edition of the Life and Works of Robert Burns; with 

Original Descriptions by Allan Cunningham. 8vo. 

London : James Cochrane & Co., . . . 1835 

A Descriptive Sketch of Burns's Birthplace, Alloway Kirk, 

Monument and Slabs, and his Haunts on the Ayr. (Pp. 22.) 

Printed at the Ayr Observer Office, by J. F. Eraser, . 1837 



318 LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 

The Complete Works of Kobert Burns ; containing his Poems, 
Songs, and Correspondence. Illustrated by Bartlett, Allom, 
and other Artists. With a new Life of the Poet, and 
Notices Ci'itical and Biographical. By Allan Cunningham. 
2 vols., 4to. London : Virtue, . . . 1839 

Fac-simile of Burns's celebrated Poem entitled The Jolly 
Beggars, from the Original Manuscript. With a Frontis- 
piece from the Original Drawing by Wm. Allan. 4to. 
Glasgow : James Lumsden & Son, . . . 1838 

The Poetical Works of Robert Burns [with a Memoir of Burns 
by Sir Harris Nicolas.] 3 vols., 12mo. London : William 
Pickering, ...... 1839 

[Forming pai't of the series of the Aldine Poets.] 

1. The Life of Robert Burns. By James Currie, M.D. 
Extended by Additional Particulars, many of which were 
never before made Public. 

2. The Poetical Works of Robert Burns ; to which are now 
added Notes, illustrating Historical, Personal, and Local 
Allusions. 

3. The Prose Works of Robert Burns. With the Notes of 
Currie and Cromek, and many by the Present Editor. 
Royal 8vo. Edinburgh : W. & R. Chambers, . 1838-9 

The Life, Letters, and Land of Burns, Illustrated by W. H. 
Bartlett, T. Allom, and other Artists ; with a new Memoir 
of the Poet, and Notices, Critical and Biographical, of his 
Writings, by Allan Cunningham. 2 vols., 4to. London: 
Virtue, ....... 1839 

The Contemporaries of Burns, and the more recent Poets of 

Ayrshire. [By James Paterson.] Edin. : Hugh Paton. 8vo. 1840 

The Land of Burns; a series of Landscapes and Portraits, 
illustrative of the Life and Writings of the Scottish Poet. 
The Landscapes from Paintings made expressly for this 
work by D. O. Hill, Esq., R.S.A. The Literary Depart- 
ment by Professor Wilson and Robert Chambers, Esq. 
2 vols. .Glasgow: Blackie & Son, . . . 1840 

Works of Robert Burns ; with Life by Allan Cunningham, and 
Notes by Gilbert Burns, Lord Byron, Thomas Carlyle, 
Thomas Campbell, &c. 1 vol., 8vo. London: T. Tegg, 
and C.Daly, 1840 

Tomas Seannsair, Maile ri Naoidh dain Eile Le Roibeart 
Burns, air an cuir an Gaelig le Rob. Mac-Dhughaill, agus 
oraran ura leis an Eadar-Theangair. Glascho, . . 1840 

[This fasciculus contains Gaelic translations of Tarn o'Shanter, the Twa 
Dogs, the Calf, Lament for James Earl of Glencairn, Bruce's Address, 
High. and Mary, &c] 

Works [Cunningham's edition reprinted.] 1 vol., 8vo, with 

many engravings. London : G. Virtue, . No date. 



APPENDIX. 319 

The Correspondence between Barns and Clarinda; with a 
Memoir of Mrs M'Lehose (Clarinda.) Arranged and Edited 
by her Grandson, W. C. M'Lehose. 8vo. Edin. : W. Tait, 1843 

A Guide to Ayr, its Environs, and the Land of Burns. Ayr: 

M'Cormick & Gemmell, .... 1844 

A Winter with Robert Burns. Being Annals of his Patrons 
and Associates in Edinburgh during the year 1786-7, and 
the details of his Inauguration as Poet-Laureate of the 
Can[ongate] Kil[winning Mason Lodge.] Edinburgh: 
Peter Brown, ..... 1846 

The Works of Robert Burns; with a complete Life of the 
Poet [by Dr Currie], and an Essay on his Genius and 
Character, by Professor Wilson; also numerous Notes, 
Annotations, and Appendices. Embellished by eighty-one 
Portraits and Landscape Illustrations. 2 vols., royal 8vo. 
Glasgow : Blackie k Son, . . . 1846 

The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Burns ; with 
Explanatory and Glossarial Notes, and the Life of the 
Poet, by Dr Currie. London : Adam Scott, . 1846 

Poetical Works of Robert Burns, complete. 1 vol., 18mo. 

Edinburgh: Martin, ..... 1847 

S yl van's Guide to the Land of Burns. London : Johnstone, 1848 

Works [Currie's edition.] 1 vol., 8vo. Halifax : Milner, 1850 

Robert Burns as a Poet and as a Man. By Samuel Tyler. 

1 vol., 12mo. Dublin: M'Glashan, . ". 1849 

The Complete Works of Robert Burns [Currie's edition] ; 
with an enlarged and corrected Glossary. 1 vol. 12mo. 
Aberdeen : George Clarke & Son, . . . 1848 

The Poetical and Prose Writings of Robert Burns; with 
Life, Notes, and Correspondence, by Allan Cunning- 
ham, Esq., and Illustrations. Small 8vo. London : 
Daly, ..... circa 1850 

Poetical Wojks of Robert Burns. [1 vol., very small.] 

Halifax : Milner & Sowerby, . . . 1851 

Notes on his Name and Family. By James Burnes, K.H., 

E.R.S. Edinburgh : printed for private circulation, . 1851 



American Editions of Burns. 

Poems, 32mo, cloth. E. Kearney. 

... 32mo, cloth, extra. H. F. Anners, Philadelphia. 

2 vols, roan. T. Davis. 
The Life and Land of, b*y Professor Wilson. Langley. 
Works, 8vo, cloth. Crissy k Markley, Philadelphia. 

12mo, cloth. II. P. Aimers. 

12mo, cloth, extra'. Phillips k Sampson, Boston. 

lGino, morocco. Apploton. 

16ino, cloth. Appleton. 

8vo, with Life by Lockhart. Otis, Broaders, k Co., Boston. 



320 LIFE AND "WORKS OF BURNS. 

Life and "Works of Burns, in one volume, 8vo. J. and J. A. James, 

Cincinnati. 
Same work, 32mo. 



German Editions and Translations of Burns. 

Choice of Burns's Poems ; to which is added a Glossary. 

Royal 8vo. Ansbach : Dollfuss, .... 1831 

Same work, new edition, .... 1834 

Works, &c. With Selected Notes of Allan Cunningham, a 
Biographical and Critical Introduction, and a Comparative 
Etymological Glossary, by Adolphus Wagner. Complete 
in one volume [royal 8vo.j Leipsic : Frederick Fleischer, 1835 

Burns : Gedichte Uebers v. Phil. Kaufmann. 8vo. Stuttgart 

und Tubingen. Cotta'sche Buchhandlung, . . 1840 

Burns : Lieder u. Balladen. Uebertragen v. Heinr. Jul. 
Heintze. 2d Ausg. mit d. Bildn. u. einem Kurzen Lebens- 
abriss d. Distungen nebst erlaut. Anmerkungen. 12mo. 
Braunschweig : Westermann, . . . 1840 

Burns's Select Poems and Songs, chiefly in the Scottish 
Dialect ; with a Glossary. 8vo. Berlin : Schlesinger'sche 
Buchhandlung, ...... 1841 

Poetical Works of Robert Burns ; with a Life of the Author, 
and an Essay on the Genius and Writings of Burns, by A. 
Cunningham. 12mo. [Part of a Collection of British 
Authors.] Nurnberg : Fr. Campe, . . . 1843 

Burns : Gedichte, Deutsch v. W. Gerhard. 



French Translation of Burns. 

Poesies Completes de Robert Burns. Traduites de l'Ecossais 
par M. Leon de Wailly, avec une Introduction du Meme. 
Paris, .... ... 1343 



INDEXES. 



THE POEMS, ACCORDING TO THEIR DAT 



VOL. I. — JUVENILE. 

] 
' All Devil as I am, a damned 

Wretch,' 

The Torbolton Lasses, 
Verses on the Ronald Family, . 
Winter, a Dirge, .... 
Prayer written under the Pressure 
of violent Anguish, . 



1782. 

Death and Dying Words of Poor 
Mailie, 67 



1784. 

Extempore Verses — ' Oh, why the 
deuce should I repine,' . 

A Prayer in Prospect of Death, . 

Stanzas on the same Occasion, 

The First Psalm, 

The First Six Verses of the Nine- 
teenth Psalm, ... 

Epistle to John Rankine, . 

Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruis- 
seaux, 

The Belles of Mauchline, . 



1785. 

Epistle to Davie, a brother-poet, . 
Death and Dr Hornbook, . 
Epistle to John Lapraik, 
Second Epistle to John Lapraik, 
Epistle to John Goudie of Kilmar- 
nock, 

The Twa Herds, or Holy Tulzie, 

To William S[impson], 

Holy Willie's Prayer, 

Epitaph on Holy Willie, 

Third Epistle to John Lapraik, 

Epistle to the Rev. John M'Math, 

To a Mouse, 

Halloween, 

Second Epistle to Davie, 

Man was made to Mourn, 

The Cotter's Saturday Night, 

AddreRfl to the Deil, 



On John Dove, .... 17" 
The Jolly Beggars, . . . .171 
To James Smith, ... 182 

The Vision, 187 

, Additional Stanzas f, ii. 311 

A Winter Night, . . . .195 
Scotch Drink, .... 199 

1786. 

The Author's Earnest Cry and 

Prayer, 203 

The Auld Farmer's New- Year t .alu- 

tation to his Auld Mare Mag} -e, 209 

The Twa Dogs, .... 212 

To a Louse, 218 

The Ordination, .... 220 
An Address to the Unco Guri, or 

the Rigidly Righteous, . . 224 

The Inventory, . . . 227 

To Mr John Kennedy, . . 229 
To a Mountain Daisy, . . .236 
Lament for the unfortunate Issue 

of a Friend's Amour, . . . 237 

Despondency, an Ode, . . 239 

To Ruin, 241 

Note to Gavin Hamilton, . . 243 

Epistle to a Young Friend, . . 244 

Address of Beelzebub, &c., . . 255 

A Dream, 258 

The Holy Fair, .... 2(53 

On a Scotch Bard, .... 272 

A Bard's Epitaph, . . . 273 
A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, 

Esq., 274 

To Mr Mackenzie, surgeon, Mauch- 
line, 279 

The Farewell, 287 

Lines written on a Bank-note, . 288 
Written on a Blank Leaf of a Copy 

of the Poems, &c., . . .259 

Verses written under violent Grief, 2{!9 

Tin; Calf, 292 

Willie Chalmers, .... 293 

Tam Samson's Elegy, . . . 294 
To MrM'Adamof CraigengUlan, . 298 
Verses left in the Room where ho 

slept, 300 

The Briga of Ayr 306 



322 



LIFE AND WORKS OF EURNS. 



Page 
Lines on meeting with Basil, Lord 

Daer, .... 321 

Epistle to Major Logan, . . . 322 

VOL. II. 

Address to Edinburgh, . . 23 

On Charles Edward's Birthday, 26 

1787. 

To Miss Logan, with Beattie's Poems, 27 
The Gudewife of Wauchope House 

to Burns, 38 

Burns to the Gudewife of Wauchope 

House 38 

Description of William Smellie, 41 
To Mrs David Wilson, Roslin, . 43 
Inscription for the Tomb of Fergus- 
son, 46 

Verses under the Portrait of Fer- 

gusson, 47 

Verses intended to be written below 

a noble Earl's Picture, . . 48 

To a Haggis, .... 51 

Extempore in the Court of Session, 54 
Prologue spoken by Mr Woods on 

his Benefit Night, ... 69 

Willie's awa, .... 85 

Symon Gray, 88 

On Incivility shewn him at Inverary, 99 
On leaving a Place in the Highlands 

where he had been kindly enter- 
tained, 103 

On reading in a Newspaper the 

Death of John M'Leod, Esq., . 106 
On the death of Sir James Hunter 

Blair, 108 

To Miss Ferrier, .... 109 
Written on a Window of the Inn at 

Carron, 115 

Lines on the Window of an Inn at 

Stirling, 120 

Verses written with a Pencil over 

the Chimney-piece in the Parlour 

of the Inn at Kenrnore, Taymouth, 121 
The Humble Petition of Bruar Water 

to the noble Duke of Athole, . 126 
Verses written while standing by 

the Fall of Fyers, near Loch Ness, 130 
Castle-Gordon, .... 132 

The Bonny Lass of Albany, . 138 

On scaring some Water-fowl in Loch 

Turit 150 

To Miss Cruikshank, a very young 

Lady, 159 

Address to Mr William Tytler, . 169 
Elegy on the Death of Lord President 

Dundas, 179 



1788. 

On Mr Elphinstone's Translation of 

Martial, 195 

K Farewell to ~"-«-jnda, . , 207 



Page 
To Clarinda, with a Pair of Drinking- 

glasses, 247 

Epistle to Hugh Parker, . . 266 
Verses in Friars' Carse Hermitage, 270 
The Fete Champetre, . .282 

First Epistleto Mr Graham of Fintry, 287 
Mrs Fergusson of Craigdarroch's La- 
mentation for the Death of her Son, 289 
Lines written in Friars' Carse Her- 
mitage — extended copy, . . 302 

1789. 
Elegy on the year 1788, . . 306 



VOL. III. 

A Sketch [W. Creech], ... 15 

Extempore to Captain Riddel, . 18 
Ode, Sacred to the Memory of Mrs 

Oswald, 19 

To John Taylor, .... 20 
Sketch, inscribed to Charles James 

Fox, 35 

[Verses on a Wounded Hare,] . 38 

Delia, 40 

On seeing a Wounded Hare limp by 

me, 42 

Rhymed Epistle to James Tennant 

of Glenconner 43 

Address to the Toothache, . . 46 

The Kirk's Alarm, ... 55 

The Whistle, ..... 68 

To Mary in Heaven, ... 73 

To Dr Blacklock 77 

On Captain Grose's Peregrinations 

through Scotland, ... 79 

Epitaph on Captain Grose, . 80 

Written in an Envelope, enclosing a 

Letter to Captain Grose, . . 81 
The Five Carlines [an Election 

Ballad], 89 



1790. 



. 107 



Sketch — New- Year's Day, 

Prologue spoken at the Theatre, 
Dumfries, on New- Year's Evening 
(1790), 

Prologue for Mr Sutherland's Benefit 
Night, Dumfries, 

Peg Nicholson 

Written to a Gentleman who had sen; 
the Poet a Newspaper, and offered 
to continue it free of Expense, . 1 

[Second] Epistle to Mr Graham of 
Fintry, 1 



100 



On Captain Matthew Henderson, 

Epitaph on Captain Henderson, 

Tarn o'Shanter : a Tale, 

Stanzas on the Birth of a Posthu- 
mous Child, born under peculiar 
circumstances of Family Dis- 
tress, ..... 



INDEX. 



323 



1791- 

Elegy on the late Miss Burnet of 
Monboddo, 167 

Lament of Mary Queen of Scots on 
the approach of Spring, . . 170 

Lament for James, Earl of Glen- 
cairn 176 

Lines sent to Sir John Whitefoord, 
Bart., of Whitefoord, with the 
Foregoing Poem, ... 178 

Third Epistle to Mr Graham of 
Fintry, 188 

Address to the Shade of Thomson, 194 

To Mr Maxwell of Terraughty on his 
Birthday, . . . . . 204 

Fourth Epistle to Mr Graham of 
Fintry, . . . . .207 

Sensibility, .... 212 

1792. 

Lines on Fergusson, . . .221 
The Rights of Woman, an Occa- 
sional Address spoken by Miss 
Fontenelle, .... 256 
To Miss Fontenelle, on seeing her 
in a favourite Character, . . 257 

1793. 

Sonnet on hearing a Thrush sing, 281 



VOL. IV. 
Epitaph on a Lap-dog, 



. 15 



1794. 
Monody on a Lady famed for her 

Caprice, 61 

Epistle from Esopus to Maria, . 62 

A Vision, 69 

Sonnet on the Death of Glenriddel, 77 
Fragment of an Ode for Washing- 
ton's Birthday, ... 83 
Address to the Daughter of Mr 

Graham of Fintry, ... 85 
The Tree of Liberty, ... 87 

To Dr Maxwell, on Miss Jessy 
Staig's Recovery, .... 95 

1795. 

ToChloris, 104 

Toast for the 12th of April, . . 152 
Epigrams on Mr Syme, . . 157 
Inscription for an Altar to Independ- 
ence 171 

Verses on the Destruction of the 

Woods near Drumlanrig, . 172 
Address, spoken by Miss Fonte- 
nelle on her Benefit Night (Dee. 
1795), 179 

1796. 

To Collector Mitchell, ... 180 
To Colonel de Peyster, . . . 185 
A Toast to Jessy, ... 197 

Epigrams on Miss Lewars, . . 199 
Versiclea— Epigrams, Epitaphs, &c, 235 



( 824 ) 



THE SONGS, ACCOKDING TO THEIE FIEST LINES. 



Page 
Adieu ! a heart- warm, fond adieu, i. 277 
Adown winding Nith I did wander, iv. 26 
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever, iii. 214 
Again rejoicing nature sees, . i. 241 
A Highland lad my love was horn, i. 175 
Although my bed were in yon 

muir, i. 73 

Ance mair I hail thee, thou 

gloomy Decemher, . . iii. 215 

And O for ane-and-twenty, Tarn, iii. 239 
Anna, thy charms my bosom fire, iv. 75 
A rose-bud by my early walk, ii. 158 

As I was a wandering ae midsum- 
mer e'enin', ... iv. 260 
A' the lads o' Thornie-bank, iv. 253 
Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's 

alarms, . . . . iv. 188 

Awa, Whigs, awa ! . . . iv. 256 
Bannocks o' bear-meal, . iv. 272 

Behind yon hills where Stinsiar 

flows, i. 43 

Behold the hour, the boat, arrive— 

iii. 214 ; iv. 33 
Blithe, blithe and merry was she, ii. 151 
Blithe hae I been on yon hill, iii. 309 
Bonnie lassie, will ye go, . ii. 122 

Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee 

thing, iii. 197 

But lately seen in gladsome green, iv. 102 
By Allan Stream I chanced to 

rove, iv. 24 

By yon castle wa', at the close of 

the day, .... iii. 175 

Ca' the yowes to the knowes, iv. 92, 257 
Canst thou leave me thus, my 

Katy? .... iv. 119 

Clarinda, mistress of my soul, ii. 207 
Come, let me take thee to my 

breast, iv. 28 

Coming through the rye, poor 

body, .... iv. 268 

Contented wi' little, and cantie 

wi' mair, . . . . iv. 118 
Could aught of eong declare my 

pains, .... iv. 73 

Deluded swain, the pleasure, iv. 43 
Dire was the hate at old Harlaw, iv. 182 
Does haughty Gaul invasion 

threat? . . . . iv. 151 
Duncan Gray cam here to woo, iii. 264 
Fairest maid on Devon banks, iv. 206 
Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame, iv. 265 
Farewell, thou fair day, thou 

green earth, and ye skies, . iii. 205 



Page 
Farewell, ye dungeons dark and 

strong, .... ii. 213 

First when Maggy was my care, iv. 255 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among 

thy green braes, . . iii. 245 

Forlorn, my love, nocomfort near, iv. 165 
Frae the friends and land I love, iii. 236 
From thee, Eliza, I must go, i. 252 

Gane is the day, and mirk 's the 

night, . ... iv. 261 

Gat ye me, O gat ye me, . . iv. 269 
Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, ii. 301 

Had I a cave on some wild dis- 
tant shore, . . . iv. 23 
Here awa, there awa, wandering 

Willie, . . iii. 217, 288, 293-4 

Here is the glen, and here the 

bower, .... iv. 80 

Here 's a health to ane I loe dear, iv. 193 
Here's a health to them that's 

awa, iii. 271 

Here's to thy health, my bonnie 

lass, iv. 74 

How can my poor heart be glad, iv. 90 
How cruel are the parents, . iv. 161 

How lang and dreary is the night, iv. 100 
How pleasant the banks of the 

clear-winding Devon, . ii. 170 

Husband, husband, cease your 

strife, . . . . iv. 51 

I am a bard of no regard, . . i. 178 
I am a son of Mars, who have 

been in many wars, . . i. 172 

I am my mammy's ae bairn, iv. 251 

I bought my wife a stane o' lint, iv. 260 
I coft a stane o' haslock woo', iv, 269 
I do confess thou art sae fair, . iii. 238 
1 dreamed I lay where flowers were 

springing i. 37 

I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen, . iii. 96 
I hae a wife o' my ain, . . ii. 298 

I'll aye ca' in by yon town, . iv. 272 
I'll kiss thee yet, yet, . . ii. 216 
In Mauchline there dwells six 

proper young belles, . i. 99 

In simmer, when the hay was 

mawn, ..... iii. 241 
I once was a maid, though I can- 
not tell when, . . i. 173 
Is there, for honest poverty, . iv. 133 
It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face, iv. 261 
It was a' for our rightfu' king, iv. 273 
It was in sweet Senegal that my 

foes did me enthral, . . iv. 267 



INDEX. 



325 



Page 
It was the charming month of 

May, iv. Ill 

It was upon a Lammas night, i. 72 

Jamie, come try me, . . iv. 255 

Jockey's taen the parting kiss, iv. 75 
John Anderson my jo, John, iii. 110 

Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, iv. 112 
Last May a braw wooer cam down 

the lang glen, . . . iv. 165 
Let love sparkle in her ee, . iv. 267 
Let me ryke up to dight that tear, i. 176 
Let not woman e'er complain, . iv. 100 
Long, long the night, . . iv. 159 

Loud blaw the frosty breezes, . ii. 215 
Louis, what reck I by thee ? . iv. 71 

Mark yonder pomp of costly 

fashion, . . . . iv. 162 

Musing on the roaring ocean, ii. 216 

My bonny lass, I work in brass, i. 177 
My Chloris, mark how green the 

groves, . . . . iv. 110 

My fit ther was a farmer upon the 

Carfick border, O, i. 62 

My Harry was a gallant gay, . iii. 109 
My heart is a breaking, dear 

tittie, .... iii. 114 

My heart is sair — I dare na tell, iv. 71 
My heart is wae, and unco wae, ii. 13S 
My heart's in the Highlands, my 

heart is not here, . . iii. 113 
My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form, ii. 165 
Nae gentle dames, though e'er sae 

fair i. 249 

No churchman am I for to rail 

and to write, ... i. 94 

Now in her green mantle blithe 

nature arrays, . . . iii. 217 

Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers, iv. 28 
Now spring has clad the grove in 

green, iv. 169 

Now westlin winds and slaught'r- 

ing guns, . . . i. 74 

O aye my wife she dang me, . iv. 275 
O bonnie was yon rosy brier, iv. 170 

O cam ye here the fight to shun, iii. Ill 
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, ii. 268 
O gin my love Were yon red rose, iii. 31 1 
O guid ale comes and guid ale 

goes, iv. 276 

Oh, I am come to the low countrie, iv. 273 
Oh, Lady Mary Ann looked o'er 

the castle wa', ... iv. 263 

Oh, Mary, at thy window be, . i. 71 
Oh, once I loved a bonnie lass, i. 30 
O how can I be blithe and glad, iii. 237 
O how shall 1, unskilfu', try, . iii. 197 
Oh, raging fortune's withering 

blast i. 104 

Oh, saw ye my dear, my Phely, iv. 98 
Oh, Tibbie, 1 hae seen the day, i. 44 
Oh, wat ye wha's in yon town ? iv. 155 
Oh, were 1 on Parnassus' hill, . ii. 2i;9 
Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast, iv. 195 
Oh, wha will to St Stephen's 
House, ..... ii 2B2 



Page 
O Kenmure 's on and awa, Willie, iv. 264 
O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has 

gotten ? iii. 296 

O lassie, art thou sleeping yet ? iv. 139 
O lay thy loof in mine, la-s, . iv. 76 
O leeze me on my spinning-wheel, iii. 240 
O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide, iii. 310 
O lovely Polly Stewart ! . . iv. 72 
O luve will venture in where it 

daurna weel be seen, . . iii. 243 
O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet, iv. 76 
O May, thy morn was ne'er so 

sweet, ..... iii. 216 
O meikle thinks my luve o* my 

beauty, .... iii. 236 
O mirk, mirk is this midnight 

hour, iii. 284 

O my luve's like a red, red rose, iv. 68 
On a bank of flowers, in a summer 

day, ..... iii. 112 
On Cessnock Banks there lives a 

lass, . . . i. 52 

O open the door, some pity to shew, iii. 2.90 
O Philly, happy be that day, . iv. 116 
O poortith cauld, and restless love, iii. 279 
O sad and heavy should I part, iv. 271 
O saw ye bonnie Lesley, . . iii. 228 
O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, 

stay, iv. 159 

O steer her up and haud her gaun, iv. 274 
O tell na me o' wind and rain, iv. 140 
O this is no mv ain lassie, . iv. 168 

Out over the Forth I look to the 

north, iv. 71 

Out ower yon muir, out ower yon 
moss. ..... iv. 75 

O wat ye wha 's in yon town, . iv. 139 
O wha is she that loes me. . iv. -.'49 

O whare did you get that hauver 

meal bannock ? . . . iv. 251 

O whistle, and I'll come to you, 

my lad, . . ii. 212 ; iv. 26, 167 

O Willie brewed a peck o' maut, iii. 64 
O wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie 
Dunbar ? .... iii. 108 

Powers celestial ! whose protec- 
tion, i. 250 

Raving winds around her blowing, ii 215 
Robin shure in hairst, . . iv. 276 
Sae flaxen were her ringlets, iv. 93 

Scots, wha hae wi* Wallace bled, iv. 31, 39 
See ! the smoking bowl before us ! i. 179 
She is a winsome wee thing, . iii. 254 
She 's fair and fause that causes 

my smart, .... iii. 247 
Should auld acquaintance be for- 
got, ii. 300 ; iv. 38 
Simmer 's a pleasant time, . iv. 254 
Sir Wisdom 's a fool when he 's foil, i. 174 
Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, 

fairest creature ? . . . iv. 101 
Stay, my charmer, can you leave 

me? ii. 214 

Streams that glide in orient 

. ii 132 



B26 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



Page 
Sweet closes the eve on Craigie- 

burn Wood, . . . iii. 234 

Sweet fa's the eve onCraigieburn, iii. 235 
Sweetest May, let love inspire thee, iv. 276 
The bonniest lad that e'er I saw, iv. 271 
The Catrinewo«ds were yellow seen, i. 156 
The day returns, my bosom burns, ii. 285 
Thedeil came riddling through the 

town, iii. 224 

The gloomy night is gathering fast, i. 302 
Their groves o' sweet myrtle let 

foreign lands reckon, . . iv. 160 
The laddies by the banks o' Nith, iii. 87 
The last time I came o'er the moor, iii. 304 
The lazy mibt hangs from the brow 

of the hill, .... ii. 296 

The lovely lass o' Inverness, . iv. 67 
The noble Maxwells and their 

powers, .... iii. 241 
Thu ploughman he's a bonnie lad, iv. 253 
There lived a carle on Kellyburn 

Braes iv. 266 

There's auld Rob Morris that 

wons in yon glen. . . . iii. 264 
There 's braw, braw lads on Yar- 
row braes, .... iii. 280 
There 's nought but care on every 

hand, ..... i. 92 

There was a lad was born in Kyle, i. 97 
There was a lass, and she was fair, iii. 313 
There was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, iv. 252 
There was once a day, but old 

Time then was younsr, . iv, 248 

There were five carlines in the 

south, .... iii. 89 

There were three kings into the 

east, i. 70 

The small birds rejoice in the green 

leaves returning, . . ii. 250 

Tho smiling spring comes in re- 
joicing, .... iii. 246 
The Thames flows proudly to the 

sea, iii. 114 

The either morn, when I forlorn, iv. 259 
The Aveary pund, the weary pund, iv. 260 
Thickest night, o'erhang my 

dwelling ! . . . . ii. 214 

Thine am I, my faithful fair, iii. 106 

Though cruel fate should bid us 

part, i. 254 

Though women's minds, like 
- winter winds, ... iv. 258 
Thou hast left me ever, Jamie ! iv. 37 
To thee, loved Nith, thy gladsome 

plains iv. 137 

True-hearted was he, the sad 

swain o' the Yarrow, . . iii. 291 
Turn again, thou fair Eliza, iii. 242 

'Twas even— the dewy fields were 

green i. 281 

Twas in the seventeen bunder 

year, . iv. 147 



Page 

'Twas na her bonnie blue ee wa3 

my ruin, .... iv. 160 

Up in the morning 's no for me, iv. 252 
Up wi' the carles o' Dysart, iv. 265 

Wae is my heart, and the tear 's in 

my ee, . . . / iv. 73 

Wee Willie Gray, and his leather 

wallet, iv. 275 

Wha is that at my bower-door ? iv. 258 
Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad? iv. 256 
What can a young lassie, what 

shall a young lassie, . . iii. 237 
What will I do gin my hoggie die ? iv. 254 
Wha will buy my troggin ? iv. 196 

When clouds in skies do come 

together, . . . i. 103 

When first I came to Stewart Kyle, i. 101 
When first I saw fair Jeanie's 

face, iii. 98 

When Guildford good our pilot 

stood, ii. 49 

When o'er the hill the eastern 

star, .... iii. 251, 263 

When rosy morn comes in wi' 

showers, .... iii. 109 
When wild war's deadly blast was 

blawn, iii. 294 

When winter's wind was blawing 

cauld iv. 270 

Where are the joys I hae met in 

the morning ? . . . iv. 37, 42 
Where, braving angry winter's 

storms, ii. 165 

Where Cart rins rowin' to the 

sea, iii. 246 

Where live ye, my bonnie lass ? iv. 2ti2 
AVhile larks with little wing, iv. 21 

Whom will ye send to London 

town? iv. 141 

Why, why tell thy lover? . iv. 166 
Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, iii. 244 
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary? i. 250 
Wilt thou be my dearie ? . . iv. 72 
Ye banks, and braes, and streams 

around, .... iii. 254 
Ye banks and braes o* bonnie 

Doon, iii. 244 

Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon, ii. 33 
Ye gallants bright, I rede ye right, iii. 110 
Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, 

give an ear, ... iv. 263 

Ye 're welcome to despots, 

Dumourier, .... iii. 299 
Ye sons of old Killie, assembled 

by Willie, .... i. 280 

Yestreen I got a pint o' wine, iii. 299 

Yon wild mossy mountains sae 

lofty and wide, . . . iii. 238 
Young Jamie, pride of a' the plain, iv. 268 
Young Jockey was the blithest lad, iv. 258 
Young Peggy blooms our bonniest 

lass i. 198 






( S27 ) 



GENERAL INDEX. 



Aberdeen, "Burns at, ii. 134. 

Aberfeldy, the falls at, ii. 122. 

Adair, Dr James M., accompanies Burns 
to Harvieston, ii. 145, 315. 

Addington, Mr Henry [Lord Sidmouth], 
verses by, on Burns, ii. 133 ; iv. 153. 

Afton, river, celebrated by Burns, iii. 245. 

Aiken, Andrew, poem addressed to, i. 244. 

, Miss Grace, i. 105 ; ii. 110; iv. 190. 

i , Mr Robert, writer in Ayr, i, 135, 

160 ; account of, 225, 227 ; letter to, 
234; 290; letter to, 317; ii. 201, 256; 
iv. 225, 235. 

Ainslie, Rachel, ii. 79, 92. 

— — — , Robert, a young friend of Burns, 
ii. 71 ; accompanies Burns on a tour, 
78; letters to, 100, 105, 113, 167; anec- 
dote told by, 168 ; letters to, 234, 259, 
264, 270, 271, 3U9; iii. 48, 84; visits 
Burns at Ellisland, 151; letters to, 
211,306. 

Ainslie's map of Scotland, iii. 167. 

Airds Hill, adventure of Burns at, iv. 18. 

Albany, Bonny La&s of, a Jacobite effu- 
sion, ii. 138. 

Alexander, Wilhelmina, of Ballochmyle, 
i. 280 ; letter to, 328. 

Alison, Rev. Archibald, iii. 168. 

Allan. David, painter, iii. 287 ! iv. 161, 164. 

Alloway Kirk, iii. 151, 155, 159. 

Alnwick, Burns at, ii. 93. 

American war, ballad on, ii. 49. 

Anderson, Dr James, editor of the Bee, 
iii. 145; letter to, 146. 

• Anna,' a song upon, iii. 299. 

Argyle, Duke of, anecdote of, iv. 291. 

Association theory of beauty, iii. 169. 

Athole, Duke of, entertains Burns, ii. 123. 

Auld, Rev. Mr, minister of Mauchline, 
i. 134, 270 ; iii. 57- 

Ayr, Burns resides at, in boyhood, i. 20. 

Ayton, Sir- Robert, a song by, iii. 238. 

Bacon, of Brownhill Inn, iv. 49. 

Baillie, Lady Grizel—a ballad of hers 
quoted, iv. 81. 

Baillie, Miss Lesley, song upon, iii. 228, 
231 , 254. 

Baird, Rev. George, letter to, iii. 174. 

Balfour, Mr James, a noted singer of 
Scottish songs, iv. 41. 

Ballads, ancient, Burns's admiration 
of, i. 102. 

Ballantync, John, Esq., of Ayr, i. 234, 
305 ; letters to, ii. 2o, 28, 38, 44 ; anec- 
dote of, iii. 5fi. 



Ballochmyle, adventure of Burns at, 

i. 280. 
Balmerino's dirk, iv. 67- 
Banff, Burn3 at, ii. 133. 
Banks of Helicon, an old tune, iv. 39. 
Bannockburn, Burns on the field of, 

ii. 116. 
Baptism, anecdote of a, in Burns's house, 

iii. 278. 
Barclay, Mr, a Berean minister, iii. 111. 
Begbie. Kllison, i. 52 ; letters to, 55. 
Begg, Mrs (Isabella Burns), sister of the 

poet, i 41, 65, 75, 81,82. 
Belles of Mauchline, i. 99. 
Benson, Miss (Mrs Basil Montagu), letter 

to, iii. 288; anecdote reported by, 

iv. 56. 
Beugo, Mr, engraver of Burns's portrait, 

ii. 42 ; letter to, 280. 
Biggar, Misses, Kirkoswald, i. 35. 
Birtwhistle, Alexander, Esq., iii. 88; 

iv. 143. 
Blacklock, Dr Thomas, the blind poet, 

i. 303, 329 ; ii. 34 ; letter to, 296 ; epistle 

from, iii. 76; epistle to, 77; verse 

epistle from, 145. 
Blackstock, Miss Jane, song upon, 

iii. 281. 
Blair, Burns visits the Duke of Athole 

at, ii. 123. 
Blair, Rev. Hugh, i. 330 ; ii. 61, 68 ; letter 

to, 75 ; letter by him to Burns, 76. 
Blair, Sir J. H., elegy on, ii. 107- 
Blane, John, gaudsman to Burns, i. 146. 
Bloomfield, Robert, the poet, iii. 276. 
Bonnie Doon, a song, ii. 33. 
Books bought by Burns from Mr Peter 

Hill, iii. 167. 
Books read by Burns in early life, i. 13, 

339. 
Bowmaker, Rev. Dr, of Dunse, ii. 79, 92. 
Boyd, Rev. William, of Fenvvick, i. 222". 
Breadalbane, Earl of, satirised by Burns, 

i. 255. 
Brice, Mr David, letters to, i. 253, 271. 
Brow, Burns at, for sea-bathinsj, iv. 201. 
Brown, Dr John, author of Brownonian 

System, ii. 111. 
Brown, Mr Samuel, letter to, ii. 258. 
, Richard, an early friend of 

Burns, i. 39, 59 ; ii. 186, 226, 2«) ; letters 

to, 231, 239, 248; iii. 44, 85. 
Brownhill Inn, Burns at, iv. 49. 
Bruar Water, Falls of, visited by Burns, 

ii. 124; verses on, 126. 
Bruce, Michael, the poet, iii. 174. 



328 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



Bruce, Mrs, of Clackmannan, ii. 154. 

,Robei't,his sword, Burns knighted 

by, ii. 153. ' Address to his Men at 
Bannockburn,' iv. 31. 

* Bruce's Address ' — Scots wha hae, &c. 
Circumstances of its composition, 
iv. 32. 

Brydu;es, Sir Egerton, ideal visit of, to 
Burns, iii. 143. 

Buchan, Earl of, ii. 16, 36; letter to, 36; 
invitation from and letter to, iii. 193; 
letter to, iv. 55. 

Buchanites, Burns's account of the, i. 95. 

Burn, Mr Robert, architect, iii. 221. 

Burnes, Mr James, of Montrose, letters 
of the poet to, i. 83, 95, 297; visited 
by the poet, ii. 136 ; letter to, iii. 22 ; 
iv. 205 ; sends help to Burns, 207; his 
generous offers to Mrs R. Burns, 222. 

Burnes, Mr James, of Montrose (second 
of the name), ii. 136 ; iv. 206. 

Burnet, Eliza, daughter of Lord Mon- 
boddo, ii. 21, 22, 24; iii. 107. 

Burns, Agnes, mother of the poet, i. 26, 
27. 331, 338: iv. 233. 

Burns. Agnes and Anuabella, sisters of 
the poet. i. 41, 331. 

Burns, Elizabeth, a daughter of the 
poet, iii. 260: iv. 175. 185. 

Burns, Elizabeth, two children of Burns, 
iv. 307. 

Burns, Francis Wallace, the poet's 
second son, born, iii. 60 ; iv. 229. 

Burns, Gilbert, brother of the poet, i. 12, 
25. 84, 1119,331, 337; letter to, ii. 136, 
217; Robert Burns lends money to, 
251 ; writes to R. Burns, 305 ; letter to, 
iii. 101; remarks by, on political time- 
servers, 277 ; letter to, iv. 204 ; letter 
from, iv 221; conduct at his brother's 
death, 222; letter of to Mr George 
Thomson, 226 ; his edition of the poet's 
works, 231-3. 

Burns, James Glencairn, the poet's 
youngest surviving son, iv. 230. 

Burns, Miss, iii 117; iv. 241. 

, Mr Robert, the poet's eldest son, 

iii. 289; iv. 70, 130, 132, 229. 

Bums, Mrs Robert, the poet's wife 
(see also ' Jean'), iii. 72, 140, 152, 2«0; 
iv. 125, 132, 174, 205, 208. 20.9. 222, 229. 230. 

Burns. Robert, the poet, his ancestry, 

- i. 333; parentageand early days, 10; his 
first love, 12, 29 ; books read by him in 
boyhood, 13, 14, 17, 18, 19, 22, 38, 339, 
343; early companions, 11, 12; anec- 
dote of his birth. 16; at Kirkoswald 
school, 31; at Irvine, 39.58; early love 
affairs, 40. musical accomplishments 
of, 66; sober habits in early life, 85; 
as a farmer ana man of business. 85; 
(also iii. 139, 141, 146); severe illness and 
penitential reflections, 86 ; as a free- 
mason, 94, 278 ; acquaintance with 
Jean Armour, 97; first determination 
of his mind to literature, SSte religious 



feelings and habits, 159 (also ii. 55, 
190, 219 ; iii. 49, 63, 93) ; collects money 
for his poems at Maybole, 290; visits 
St Margarefs Hill, 300 ; contemplates 
emigration to the West Indies, 231, 
233, 247, 271, 283, 290, 305, 315, 327; 
troubles connected with his passion for 
Jean Armour, 231, 237, 283; publishes 
his poems, 284; first criticism on his 
poems, 327 ; metres of Burns, 345 ; sale 
of Kilmarnock edition of the poems, 
349; comes to Edinburgh, ii. 13; re- 
ception by the Edinburgh literati, %\ ; 
personal appearance and conversation 
in Edinburgh, 25; at Smellie's printing- 
office, 40 ; portrait of, by Nasmyth, 42 ; 
raises a monument to Robert Fergus- 
son, 45 ; as a lion of the season, 57 ; 
description of, at Dr Blaekloek's, 60; 
meeting of sir Walter Scott and Burns, 
64 ; second edition of his poems pub- 
lished, 70 ; tour in the south of Scot- 
land, 78-90; trip to West Highlands, 
99; Highland tour, 113— 13 ( i ; trip to 
llarvieston, 145; feeling for fine scenery, 
155 ; acquaintance with Mrs M'Lehose 
(Clarinda), 175; appointed to a situa- 
tion in the Excise, 227 ; takes a farm 
in Dumfriesshire, 242 ; confirms his 
union with Jean Armour, 258 ; com- 
mences residence at Ellisland, 263 ; 
becomes exciseman of his district, 
iii. 60 ; manner of performing his duty, 
82 ; breaks his arm, 179 ; gives up 
his farm, and removes to Dumfries, 
206 ; his acrimony and its source, 
187, 260 ; his manner of life in Dum- 
fries, 266; his political manifestations, 
270 ; escapes of XJoiitical feeling, 299 ; 
reprimanded by the P^xcise Board, 274 ; 
sufferings from bad times, iv. 13 ; 
excursion with Mr Syme through 
Galloway, 14; exasperations, 19; his 
favourite walks, 25, 70; anecdote of, 
connected with a library, 44 ; im- 
promptus, 49; gives an imprudent 
toast, 57 : offends and quarrels with Mrs 
Riddel, 58 ; democratic effusions, 86 ; 
a poetical goddess, 97 ; his insouciant 
character, 120 ; his style of housekeep- 
ing at Dumfries, 124; his daily life in 
Dumfries, 130; adventure at Eecle- 
fechan, 138 ; neglect, of, by the mi- 
nistry, 153; his moral habits, 174; his 
health fatally injured, 183 ; his death, 
209; funeral, 210; remarks on his 
character and talents, 217; his debts, 
221 ; exertions in behalf of his family, 
223; his works edited by Dr t'urne, 
228 ; monument to. 233 ; ver.sicles of, 
235: reputation in hits latter years. 299; 
subscriptions fur Burns's family, 304; 
bibliography of Burns, 312. 
Burns, William, brother of th „• poet, 
iii. 24; letters to. ibid., 33.85, US; letter 
to. 120; death of. HG. 



CrENERAL INDEX. 



329 



Burns, William Nicol, the poet's second 
son, born, iii. 180; iv. 163, 230. 

Burns, William, father of the poet, i. 10, 
15, 17, 18, 23; foresees his son's genius, 
29; letter of the poet to, 60; last ill- 
ness, 80; Mrs Begg's recollections of, 
81; death, "82; epitaph on, by the poet, 
83: his religious sentiments, 122. 

Bushby Maitland. , Esq., iv. 145. 

, Mr John, entertains Burns, 

iv. 64 ; quarrel with, ibid , 141, 144 ; his 
Lamentation, 147, 196 ; epitaph on, 246 

Business, Burns as a man of, i. 85 ; 
iii. 139, 141, 146. 

Cadell and Davies, Messrs, of London, 
publish the poet's works, iv. 227 ; en- 
gage Mr Gilbert Burns on an improved 
edition, 231. 

Caledonian Hunt, gentlemen of. sub- 
scribe for Burns's poems, ii. 71; dedi- 
cation to, 70. 

Cameron. Omeron, story of, ii. 1.53. 

Campbell, Hay, lord advocate, ii. 54. 

, Mar.*- [Highland Mary), 

account of, i. 247 ; parting of Burns 
•with, 248 ; question regarding the date 
of Burns's attachment to, 248-251, 312- 
315; death of, 313; anniversary of her 
death in 1789. iii. 72 ; poem on, 73 ; final 
investigation of the date, 74 ; song upon 
(' Highland Mary'), 254. 

Candlish, Mr James, letters to, ii. 55, 
225; allusion to, iii. 30. 

Canongate Kilwinning Lodge of Free- 
masons, ii. 17. 

Cardonnel, Mr, antiquary, envelope 
addressed to, iii. 81. 

Carfrae, Rev. Mr P., letter from, iii. 26; 
letter to, 28. 

1 Carlines, the Five,' an election ballad, 
iii. 89. 

Carlini, the melancholy, iv. 79. 

Carlisle, Burns at, ii. 93. 

Carly.e, Thomas, iv. 137, 218. 

Carrick coast, i. 31, 32. 

Carronades, four, bought by Burns, 
and sent to France, iii. 221. 

Carron Works, Burns passes, ii. 115 ; 
visited by Burns, 145. 

Cathcart, Miss, ii. 129. 

Chalmers, Miss Margaret, ii. 117; letters 
to, 144, 164 ; songs upon, 165; letter to, 
166; her character, 167 ; letters to, 170, 
179, 182, 199, 227, 242, 253, 283. 

Chalmers, Mr William, writer in Ayr, 
i. 29.1, 329; ii. 24. 

Chi oris (Jean Lorimer), songs on, iii. 
235; iv. 93, 101; verses to, 104; her 
story, 103; songs upon, 110, 112. 

Clarke, Mr James, teacher, iii. 185 ; letters 
to, 218, 222; besought for a return of 
lent money, iv. 189; letter from, 189; 
letter to, 200; 221. 

Clarke, Mr, musician, ii. 161, 217; letter 
to, iii. 227 J 232 ; iv. 21 ; jocular allusions 



to, 22 ; letter to, asking his interference 

in a quarrel, 57, 168. 
Clark, William, a servant of Burns, 

iii. 141. 
Cieghorn, Mr Robert, letter to, ii. 250. 
Clunie, Rev. Mr, a song sung by, iv. 92, 
Cochrane, Grizel, anecdote of, ii. 117. 
Cockburn, Lord, iv. 227. 

, Mrs, i. 3-i; iii. 315. 

Coldstream bridge. Burns at, ii. 80. 
Collins*? Ode to Evening, imitated by 

Burns, iii. 194. 
Combe, Mr George, his phrenological 

view of Burns's character, iv. 308. 
Commonplace book of Burns, 1783, i. 75, 

92, 9d, 101, 159. 
Commonplace-book, 1787, ii. 67. 

, 1788, ii. 265. 

Communion, circumstances attending 

administration of, in Scotland, i. 261. 
Constable, Lady Winifred Maxwell, 

iii. 87; letter to, 94; 183; letter to, 184; 

song upon, 241. 
' Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' 

mair,' a song representing Burns's 

own character, iv. 118, 120. 
Copland, Mrs, of Dumfries, iv. 190. 
' Cotter's Saturday Night,' account of 

that poem, i. 143 ; the poem, i. 160 ; ii. 80, 

134; picture of by David Allan, iv. 164. 
Covenant, Solemn League and, epigram, 

iv. 242. 
Cowper, the poet, Burns's opinion of, 

iv. 180. 
Cox, Mr Robert, paper by, on Burns's 

head, iv. 311. 
Craig, Mrs, visited by Burns when at 

Brow. iv. 208. 
Craigieburn Wood, iii. 234. 
Craik, Miss, of Arbigland. iii. 289; iv. 19. 
Cranium of Burns, iv. 307- 
Crawford, Robert, the pastoral poet, 

iv. 35, 283-4. 
Crawford, Thomas, of Cartsburn, ii. 248. 
Creech, Mr William, publisher, ii. 16; 

letter to, ii. 85 ; tedious settlement of 

accounts with, 174, 199, 200 ; sum paid 

by to Burns, 247 ; satirical sketch 

of, iii. 15; a new settling of accounts, 

24 ; 'at last amicable and fair,' 32 ; 

letter to, 45 ; Burns takes revenge 

upon, 184. 
Cririe, Rev Dr, ii. 291. 
Crochallan Fencibles, ii, 41. 
Croinbie, Alexander, iii. 166. 
Cromek, Robert, his * Reliques of Burns' 

quoted, ii. 62, 273. 
1 Cromlet's Lilt,' anecdote of, iv. 285. 
Cruikshank, Miss Jenny, ' Beauteous 

rose-bud,' ii. 158. 
Cruikshank, Mr William, letter to, 

ii. 149 ; Burns lodges with, 157 ; letters 

to, 233, 304 ; noticed, iii. 39 ; epigram 

upon, iv. 241. 
Cunningham, Allan — his ' Life and 

.Works of Burns' referred to, i. 6f 



330 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



quoted, ii. 43; corrected, 234, 315; 
a circumstantial misstatement by, 
iii. 65; quoted, 83, 134, 198, 199, 208, 289. 

Cunningham, a player and poet, iv. 282. 

, Lady E.. letter to, iii. 179. 

■ , Mr Alexander, a friend of 

the poet, ii. 59 ; letter to, iii. 38 : letter 
from, 122; letters to, 12:*, 138, 174, 185, 
230, 286 ; song on an event in his life, 
iv. 23 ; letter to, 56 ; song addressed to. 
169; letter to, 203 ; his exertions for 
the family of Burns, 223. 

Cunninghame, Mr, of Knterkin, ii. 281. 

Curling, a game on the ice, i. 187. 

Cunie, Dr James, i. 16 ; iv. 13rt, 223 ; 
publication of his edition of Burns's 
works, 228. 

Daer, Lord, Burns dines with, i. 319. 
Daily life of Burns at Dumfries, iv. 130. 
Dalgarnock, allus'on to, in a song, iv.167. 
Dalrymple, Dr William, i. 16, 21, 126; 

anecdote of, iii. 56. 
Dalrymple, James. Esq., of Orangefield, 

ii. 14, 18 ; letter to. 19. 
Dalrymple, school of, attended by Burns, 

i. 19. 
Dalrymple, Sir John, ii. 41. 
Dalzell, John of Barncroch, iv. 16. 
Davidson, Betty, her legendary lore, 

i. 10, 17- 
Davidson, John,' Souter Johnny,' iii. 161. 
Davies, Miss, letter to, iii. 196; songs to, 

197; letter to, 198; fate of, 199. 
Dean of Faculty, the, a satirical ballad, 

iv. 182. 
Debts of Burns, iv. 221. 
Delany, Captain, iii. 199. 
Delia, an ode, iii. 39. 
Delolnie on the English Constitution, a 

copy of, anecdote of, iv. 44. 
Democratic effusion of Burns, iv. 87. 
sentiments of Burns in 

1793-4. iv. 8G-K9. 
Dempster, George, of Dunnichen, i. 185. 
De 1'eyster, Colonel, versified note to, 

iv. 185. 
Dissipation in country towns of Burns's 

time, iii. 209. 
Distillers, Scotch, i. 203; iv. 292. 
Distress, national, in 1793, iv. 13, 181. 
Dogs, Burns's, iii. 39. 
Domestic circumstances of Burns at 

Dumfries, iv. 124. 
Doon, river, ii. 33; iii. 159, 244. 
Douglas, Mr William, his inquiry into 

the date of Burns's attachment to 

Highland Mary, i. 248; ii. 217. 
Dove, John, innkeeper in Mauchline, 

i 170 
Dramatic writing recommended to 

Burns, iv. 96'. 
Drumlanrig, woods of— verses on their 

destruction, iv. 172. 
Drummond, Mrs, of Perth, ii. 151. 
Dudgeon, Mr, a poet, ii. 79. 



' Dumbarton Drums,' a tune, iv. 287. 

Dumfries, Burns at, ii. 96; theatre in, 
iii. 102; Burns removes to, 2n9; his 
style of living there (1792), 266; letter 
to magistrates of, 290 ; library at, iv. 44; 
king's birthday (1794), celebrated at, 
81; Burns's style of living at, 124; 
Burns's daily life at, 130j volunteersat, 
150; Burns's funeral at, 210. 

Dumfries election, ballad on the, iii. 87; 
a second ballad on, 89; description of 
in verse, 129. 

Dumourier, General, iii. 299. 

Dunbar, Burns at, ii. 91. 

, Mr William, ii. 41 ; letters to, 

54, 252; iii. 103, 164. 

Duncan, William, recommended by 
Burns, iii. 14<J. 

Dundas, Lord President, verses on the 
death of, ii. 1/9. 

Dundas, Mr Henry, ii. 125. 

Dunfermline, Burns at, ii. 155. 

Dunlop, Mrs, of Dunlop, becomes the 
f, iend of Burns, i. 324 ; letters to, 325 ; 
ii. 29, 55, 57, 75. 200, 225, 241, 257, 258, 
259, 263, 275, '277, 278, 289, 295, 299, 305 ; 
iii. 27, 35, 49, 62, 92. 100, 105. 126, 138, 
162, 179, 180, 205, 227, 248, 253, 272, 276 
bis,- iv. 83, 126, 178, 204; gives up 
Kurns's letters for publication, 224. 

Dunn, Jean, a suspected contrabandist, 
iii. 83. 

Dunseore, parish kirk of, iii. 49. 

Dunse, Burns at, ii. 78, 89. 

Ecclefechan, Burns at, in a snow-storm, 
iv. 137 ; the lass of, 269. 

Edinburgh, Burns arrives in, ii. 15; Ad- 
dress to, 22; society in, in 1787, 575 
Burns's final visit to, iii. 211. 

Eglintoun, Earl of. letter to, ii. 27; 71. 

Eiiza. a heroine of Burns, i. 252. 

Ellisland, a farm in Dumfriesshire, 
taken by Burns, ii. 243 ; he commences 
living there, 263; description of, 276; 
ceremonial at entering the new house, 
iii. 59 ; crop sold at, 193 ; 'character as 
a farm, 206 ; quitted by Burns, 207. 

Elphinstone, James, ep ; gram on his 
translation of .Martial, ii. 195. 

English gentlemen, two, visit 1 Burns, 
iii. 191. 

Erskine, Hon. Andrew, iii. 17, 232; post- 
script from, 283 ; his death, iv. 46. 

Erskine, Bon Henry, ii. 16, 17 ; letter 
to, 51 ; sketch of, 54 ; displaced from the 
deanship of Faculty, iv. 181. 

Erskine, J. F., Esq , letter to, iii. 300. 

Kxcise, a situation in, for Hums. ii. 202; 
applies for an appointment in his own 
district, iii. 6o. 

Excise Board reprimands Burns, iii. 274. 

Excursions, dates of Burns's, examined, 
ii. 314. 

Eyemouth, Burns made royal --arch 
mason at, ii. 90. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



331 



Falconer, William, author of The Ship- 
wreck, iii. 105. 

Falkiik, Burns at, ii. 114. 

Ferguson, Dr A., entertains Burns, ii. 64. 

Fergusson, Alexander, of Craigdarroch, 
iii. 67, 69, 147. 

Fergusson, Mrs, of Craigdarroch, ii. 289. 

, Robert, the Scottish poet, 

i. 263 ; ii. 45, 46 ; verses under the por- 
trait of, 47 ; described by Peter Stuart, 
iii. 61 ; account for his monument, 221. 

Ferintosh whisky, i. 202. 

Ferrier, Miss, verses to, ii. 109._ 

Findlater, Mr Alexander, a' brother- 
officer and friend of Burns, iii. 275; 
iv. 174, 192, 299. 

Findlay, Mr James, trains Burns for 
the Excise, ii 251. 

Fleming, Agnes [My Nanie,,0 !~\,L 43, 341. 

Flint, Kirsty, a singer of songs to Burns, 
iii. 115. 

' Flower of Yarrow, the,' iv. 284. 

Fontenelle, Miss, an actress, address 
written for her, iii. 256 ; letter to, 257 ; 
epigram upon, 257 ; address for, iv. 179. 

Fox, C. J., i. 260; sketch of, iii. 35. 

Fraser's hautboy, iv. 30, 36. 

Friars' Carse Hermitage, verses in, 
ii. 270; second version, 303. 

Frugality, apostrophe to, iii. 34. 

Fugce, writ in meditatione, against 
Burns, ii. 110. 

Fullarton, Colonel, i. 192 ; iii. 139; letter 
to, 195. 

Fyers, Fall of, ii. 130. 

Gainsborough, anecdote of a picture by, 

ii. 129. 
Gala Water, song upon, iii. 280. 
Galloway, Earl of, iv. 16, 141, 19G, 246. 
Gatehouse, Burns at, iv. 15. 
Gateslack, alluded to in a song, iv. 167. 
Gazetteer, a democratic newspaper, or- 
dered by Burns, iii. 270. 
Geddes, Bishop, letter to, iii. 21. 
Gillespie, Mr, a friend of Burns, iii. 235. 
, Professor, anecdotes related 

by, iii. 83, 1)6. 
Glen, Tarn, a song, iii. 114. 
Glencairn, Countess of, ii. 16; iii. 98; 

letter to, 99. 
Glencairn, James, Earl of, ii. 16, 20; 

letter to, 47 ; verses on his portrait, 48 ; 

68 ; letter to, 205; Lament for, iii. 176. 
Glencairn, John, Earl of, iii. 292. 
Glenlee, Lord, iv. 143. 
Globe Tavern, Dumfries, frequented by 

Burns, iv. 49, 131, 183, 244. 
Glover, Jean, author of a song, iv. 291. 
Goldie, Commissary, epigram on. iv. 245. 
Goldielea, near Dumfries, iii. 219. 
Gordon Castle visited by Burns, ii. 131, 

215. 
Gordon, Duke of, entertains Bums, 

ii. 131 ; song by referred to, 162. 
Gordon, Jane, Duchess of, ii. 21, 58. 



Gordon, Mr, of Kenmure, iv. 14, 145. 

of Malmaghie. iv. 141, 196 

Goudie, John, of Kilmarnock, i. 122; 
epistle to, 123 ; 219. 

Graces before meat, iv. 49, 239. 

Gracie, Mr James, banker, his kindness 
to Burns, iv. '208. 

Graham, Douglas, original of Tarn o* 
Shanter, i. 35 ; iii. 161. 

Graham, Miss, of Fintry, inscription 
for, iv. 85. 

Graham, Mr Robert, of Fintry, letter to, 
ii. 204 ; first verse epistle to, 287 ; letter 
to, iii. 88 ; second verse epistle to, 129; 
third verse epistle to, 188; fourth verse 
epistle to. 207 ; letter to, on the Kxcise- 
office reprimand, 274 ; scheme for the 
promotion of Burns, iv. 164; sends a 
sum of money to Hums, 192. 

Graham, Mrs, of Fintry, letter to, iii. 170. 

Graham, Mr, of Gartmore, alluded to, 
iii. 117. 

Graham, T., of Balgowan, ii. 129, 149. 

G[rant], Mr, a player, iii. 258. 

Gray, Mr James, teacher, iv. 174, 231, 
232 ; his testimony in favour of Burns's 
character, 300. 

Gray, Simon, epigram on, ii. 88. 

Greenock, death of Highland Mary at, 
i. 312, 313 ; her monument there, 316. 

Gregory, Dr James, ii. 86, 181, 184; 
letter from, iii. 41. 

Grose, Francis, antiquary, comes to 
Scotland, iii. 78 : poem on his peregri- 
nations, 79 ; epitaph on, 80 ; letters to, 
81, 159. 

Haggis, verses on a, ii. 51. 

Hall, Sir James, ii. 91. 

Halliday, James, iii. 141. 

Halloween (All Saints' Eve), supersti- 
tions concerning, i. 146. 

Hamilton, Captain John, iii. 266; corre- 
spondence of Bui ns with, iv. 135, 221. 

Hamilton, Charlotte, ii. 118, 146, 155; 
songs upon, 170 ; iv. 206. 

Hamilton, Gavin, writer in Mauchline, 
i. 85, 134 ; versified note to, 243; dedi- 
cation to, 274 ; 344 ; letters to. ii. 17, 52, 
118, 171 ; epitaph upon, iv. 235. 

Hamilton, Mr James, letter to, iii. 45. 

, Mrs Gavin, ii. 256. 



Hare, verses on a. iii. 38, 41, 42. 
Harvieston, Burns at, ii. 117, 118 ; second 

visit to, 145. 
Haugh, George, a blacksmith, iii. 266, 

267, 307 ; iv. 46. 
Hay. Mr Charles, letter to, ii. 180. 
Henderson, Matthew, account of, and 

poem on, iii 134. 
Henri, Mrs, iii. 16T, 248 ; her death, 253. 
Heron, Lady Elizabeth, iv. 80. 
, Mr, of Heron, iv. 82 ; ballads on 

his election in 1795, 141-9 ; letter to, 

146; 195, 197. 
Heron, Robert, i. 287 ; iii. 76. 



332 



LIFE AND WORKS OP BURNS. 



Highlands, epigram on hospitality in 
the, ii. 103. 

Highlands, the, song upon, iii. 113. 

, tour in, ii. 113-136. 

, West, short tour of Burns 

in, ii. 98. 

Hill, Mr Peter, hookseller, ii. 273 ; letters 

. to, 273, 291 ; iii. 29, 33, 117, 125, 164, 
184, 190, 220, 308; iv. 13, 107; a kipper 
sent to, iv. 184. 

Hogg, James, anecdote related by, ii. 84. 

Howden, Mr Francis, letter to, ii. 181. 

Howff, Burns's, at Dumfries, iv. 192. 

' Howlet face' — epigram, iv. 242. 

Hoy, Mr James, letters to, ii. 160, 162. 

Humphry, James, i. 170; iv. 236. 

Hunter, W., of Cockrune, his testimony 
regarding the Whistle contest, iii. 71. 

Hyslop, John, of Globe Tavern, Dum- 
fries, iv. 49 ; his wife, 192. 

Income of Burns at Dumfries, estimated, 
iv. 124; Excise salary reduced, 203. 

Innerleithen, Burns at, ii. 87. 

Intemperance, excess of, at Dumfries in 
1794, iv. 57. 

Inverary, Burns at, ii. 99. 

Inverness, Burns at, ii. 130. 

Irvine, Burns resides at, i. 40, 59. 

Isle, the, a house occupied by Burns, 
ii. 298. 

Jacobitism of Burns, ii. 25, 50, 137, 293 ; 
iii. 87, 95. 

'Jean,' Burns's (Jean Armour), i. 98, 
232 ; withdraws to Paisley, 253 ; 270 ; 
her first children, 290 ; Burns's renewed 
intimacy with, ii. 98, 202, 235; finally 
married to Burns, 254; marriage for- 
mula, 277; comes to Ellisland, 297- 
See ' Burns, Mrs Robert.' 

Jedburgh, Burns at, ii. 81. 

Jeffrev. Miss, ' The Blue-eyed Lassie,' 
iii. 96, 98. 

Jeffrey, Rev. Mr, of Lochmaben, iii. 96. 

Johnson, James, his Musical Museum, 
ii. 77, 160 ; songs of Burns in 2d volume, 
212-217; letter to, 297; songs in 3d 
volume, iii. 108-115; songs in 4th 
volume, 234-247; letter to, iv. 67; 
song3 of Burns in 5th volume of his 
Museum, 67-74; songs of Burns in 
6th volume, 74-76 ; letter to, 201. 

Johnstone, Captain, a democratic editor, 
iii. 270. 

Johnston, Sir James, of Westerhall, in 
an election contest, iii. 87. 

J. T., Burns answers the petition of, 
iii. 147. 

Kelso, Burns at, ii. 81. 
Kemble, Mrs Stephen, iv. 108. 

, Mrs, epigram upon, iv. 108. 

Kemmis-hall, Burns at, iv. 103. 
Kenmore, Burns at, ii. 121 ; verses 
written at, ibid. 



Kenmure Castle, Burns at, iv. 14, 17. 

, Lord, a song upon, iv. 264. 

Kennedy, a chapman, iv. 238. 

-, John, a friend of Burns, i. 229 j 



letters to, 235, 287. 
Kennedy, Miss, ii. 242. 
K , Miss Peggy, heroine of • Ye 

Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon,* 

i. 197 ; letter to, 197 ; song upon, 198 ; 

allusion to her story, 325; ii. 34; 

iii. 244. 
Ker, Mr, postmaster, ii. 300. 
Kilbagie whisky, i 177. 
Kilmarnock, i. 220 ; 257, 270. 

mason-lodge, i. 279. 

respectables, i. 219. 



Kil patrick, Nelly, the poet's first love, 

i. 29. 
Kilravock, Burns at, ii. 130. 
' Kirk wad let me be,' an anecdote, 

iv. 288. 
Kirk's Alarm, the, a satirical poem, 

iii. 55. 
Kirkcudbright election of 1795, iv. 141 ; 

election of 1796, 195. 
Kirkoswald, Burns resides at, i. 31, 32; 

iii. 153. 
Kirkpatrick of Dunscore, a Calvinistic 

clergyman, ii. 293; iii. 49; 118, 202. 
Kirn, the, at Ellisland, 1790, iii. 151. 

Ladyman, Mr, anecdote communicated 

by, iv. 49. 
Langhorne quoted, ii. 65. 
Lapraik, John, i. 115, 119, 139. 
Lass o' Patie's Mill-, a song by Ramsay, 

anecdote respecting, iii. 297. 
Lawrie, Rev. Archibald, i. 300; letters 

to, 326, 327. 
Lawrie, Rev. George, of London, i. 299, 

304, 325 ; ii. 35. 
Lawrie, Sir R., of Maxwelton, iii. 67, 72. 
Leglen Wood, a haunt of Wallace, i. 48. 
Leith, scheme to remove Burns to, iv. 164. 
Lewars, Jessy, a young friend of Mra 

Burns — her kind services, iv. 194; 

songs upon, 193, 195; epigrams upon, 

198, 199, 246. 
Lewars, John, a brother-officer of Burns, 

iii. 83 ; iv. 194, 222. 
' Liberty, Tree of,' a poem, iv. 87. 
Library, a parish, Burns's care of, iii. 

33, 125 : account of by Burns, 203. 
Licentious traditionary poetry described, 

iv. 52. 
Light, New, described, i. 131. 
Lindsay, Isabella, admired by Burns at 

Jedburgh, ii. 82, 84. 
Linlithgow, Burns at, ii. 114. 
Little, Janet, the poetical milkmaid, 

iii. 162, 179. 
Lochlea, Burns family at, i. 31. 
Lockhart, Mr, biographer of Burns, 

quoted, iii. 152, 223 ; iv. 66. 
Lockhart, Mr George, of Glasgow, letter 

to, ii. 274. 



GENERAL INDEX. 



333 



Logan, Major William, epistle to, i. 322. 

, Miss, verses to, ii. 27. 

, Mr John, of Knockshinnoch, 

letter to, iii. 54; 59. 
Lorimer, Miss Jean, iii. 235; her story, 

iv. 103. See ' Chloris.' 
Lounger, Burns criticised in the, ii. 18 ; 

Burns's opinion of, iii. 127. 
Love-letters, early, of Burns, i. 55. 
Love-letter to an unknown lady, ' My 

dear Countrywoman,' ii. 103. 
Love-letters written by Burns for a 

friend, iv. 128. 
Lowe, author of Mary's Dream, iv. 

14, 18. 
Lumsdale, Henry, ' Highland Harry,' 

iii. 109. 

Mabane, Miss, note to, ii. 172. 

M'Adam, Mr, of Craigengillan, i. 297. 

M'Auley, Mr, of Dumbarton, letter to, 
iii. 47. 

M'Creery, John, of Liverpool, printer of 
Currie's edition, iv. 229. 

M'Culloch, David, of Ardwell, iv. 81. 

M'Gill, Rev. Mr, of Ayr, iii. 54, 119. 

M'Guire, the Ayr violer, ii. 16. 

Mackenzie, Henry, author of ' The Man 
of Feeling,' ii. 18; remarks on his 
writings, iii. 127 ; ballads by, iv. 290. 

Mackenzie, Mr John, surgeon at Mauch- 
line, i. 267,279, 319; letters to, 321; 
ii. 23, 172. 

Mackenzie of Applecross, satirised by 
Burns, i. 256. 

Maekinlay, Rev. James, i. 220 ; iii. 57. 

Maclauchlan, Mrs. a song upon, ii. 216. 

M'Lehose, Mrs (Clarinda). account of, 
ii. 175 ; letters to, 175, 176, 177, 178, 183; 
lines by. 185; letters to, 185, 187, 189, 
190, 192, 194 bis, 195, 196, 197, 206; a 
farewell to, 207; letters to, 207, 2n8, 
209, 210, 211 ; her religious views, 219; 
letters to, 219, '220, 221, 222, 223, 224 bis, 
230 bis, 232, 237. 238,245; remarks on 
the correspondence with, 255; letters 
to, iii. 25, 105; song to, 106; letter to, 
with verses, 212 ; her voyage to the 
"West Indies, 213 ; letters to, 213 ; songs 
upon, 214, 215, 216, 217; returns from 
the West Indies, 268; letter to, 285; 
last letter to, iv. 83; final allusion of 
Burns to, 107 ; letters of Burns in her 
possession, 224. 

M'Leod, Isabella, of Raasay, a song 
upon, ii. 215. 

M'Leod, John, on the death of, ii. 106. 

of Dun vegan, iii. 272. 

M'Leods of Raasay, Burns intimate with 
tne, ii. 105. 

M'Math, Rev. John, i. 127, 140. 

M'Morine, Rev. Mr, minister of Caer- 
lavcrock, iii. 278. 

M'Murdo, John, Esq., letters to, iii. 13, 
134, 292; 314; iv. 52, 224. 

M'Murdo, Mrs, letter to, iii. 37. 



M'Murdo, Phillis, song referring to, 

iv. 21 , 27. 
Macpherson, James, a Highland robber, 

ii. 213. 
Macquechan's, Rob, elshon, an incident 

in life of Bruce, iii. 142. 
M'Whinnie, Mr, writer, Ayr, i. 235. 
Marriage, Burns's, question if it was 

ever annulled, ii. 317. 
Marriage, irregular, not to be annulled 

except by divorce, ii. 201. 
Martial, epigram on a translation of, 

ii. 195; a paraphrase upon one of his 

epigrams, iv. 149. 
Mary, Hiuhland, see ' Campbell, Mary.' 

, Queen of Scots, iii. 170. 

Mason-lodge at Dumfries, notes from its 

book, iv. 191. 
Masterton, Allan, iii. 64, 68; iv. 50. 

, Ann, ' Bonnie Ann,' iii. 110. 

Mauchline, i. 84, 98, 101 ; description of, 

168; Burns's return to, ii. 96. 
Maxwell, Dr, a physician at Dumfries, 

iv. 95, 173, 198, 223. 
Maxwell, John, Esq. of Terraughty, 

verses to, iii. 204; iv. 143. 
Maxwell, Provost, of Lochmaben, letter 

to, iii. 95. 
Mayne, John, a Scottish poet, i. 154; 

iii. 310. 
• Merry Beggars,' an old song, prototype 

of Burns's ' Jolly Beggars,' i. 181. 
Michie, William, epitaph upon, iv. 241. 
Miller, Captain, of Dalswinton, iii. 87, 

12.9 ; iv. 55. 
Miller, Mr James, produces air of 'Ye 

banks and braes,' &c , iv. 114. 
Miller, Patrick, of Dalswinton, ii. 21, 28, 

96 ; letters to, 139, 157; lets a farm to 

Burns, 242 ; his concern in originating 

steam -navigation, 244; iii. 184, 207; 

letter to, 291. 
Miller, Peter, junior, iv. 123. 
Mill-Mannoch on the Coyl, scene of a 

song. iii. : 94. 
Mill Vennel, Dumfries, Burns removes 

to, iii. 307. 
Ministry, neglect of Burns by the, 

iv. 152. 

Mirecleuch prosecution, iii. 146. 

Mirry, Mrs Anne, i. 73. 

Mitchell, Collector, iii. 148; letter to, 

149 ; referred to by Burns as a critic, 

iv. 156 ; rhymed note to, 180. 
Mitchelson, Mr Samuel, W.S., ii. 77- 
Moir, J., printer, anecdote told by, ii. 23. 
Monboddo, Lord, ii. 21. 
Money, Burns's objections to writing 

for, iii. 173, 316. 
Monkland Friendly Society, iii. 33, 125, 

202, 203. 
Mons Meg, a cannon, iii. 130. 
Monte.ith, Sir James, of Closeburn, 

anecdote communicated by, iii. 115. 
Montgomery, Maj.-gtn. James, u 278. 



334 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



Montgomery's Pegsy, i. 73, 102. 
Montrose, Burns at, ii. 136. 
Moodie, Rev. Alexander, i. 124, 266. 
Moore, Dr John. ii. v9 ; letters to, 31, 43, 

7-\ 107, 3 i7 : iii. 31 ; letter from, 32 ; 

letters to, 128, 172 ; advice from, 173. 
Murine, Mr, purchases Ellisland, iii. 208. 
Morning Chronicle, Burns a->ked to con- 

tribue to, iv. 123; writes a letter to 

the editor of. 129. 
Morrison, Mary, a song, i. 71 ; ii. 217. 

, Mr, Mauchline, note to. ii. 286. 

Moss4el, Burns's farm, i. 84; Burns's 

room at, i. 144, 187. 
Muir, Robert, of Kilmarnock, an early 

friend of Burns, i. 219 ; letters to, 230, 

2.91 ; ii. 71. 116, 240. 
Muir W., ufTorbolton Mill,i. 110; ii. 236- 
Muirhead, Itev. James, of Urr, iv. 148, 

149. 197- 
Murdoch, John, first teacher of Burns, 

i. 17, 18, 21, 24; letter of the poet to, 

Jan. 1783, 64; letter from, ii. 163; 

iii. 119; letter to, 133. 
Murrav, .Esq., of Broughton, iv. 141, 

146, 148, 196. 
Murray, Euphemia, of Lintrose, ii. 150. 
■ , Sir William, of Ochtertvre, 

ii. 123, 14.5. 
Murray's Literary History of Galloway 

quoted, iii. 59. 
Mylne, Mr, poems of, iii. 28, 29. 

Na-myth, Alexander, paints Burns's 
portrait, ii. 42; iv. 163. 

Newal. Mr David, writer, ii. 298 ; iii. 141 ; 
iv. 130. 

Newcastle, Burns at, ii. 93. 

Nicholson. Peg, a horse, iii. 118. 

Nicol. Mr William, ii. 93; letters to, 94, 
97; his character and history, 111 ; ac- 
companies Burns in Highlands, 113- 
136; letter to, 149; affair of ' Willie 
brewed a peck 0' Maufc,' iii 64 ; pur- 
chases an estate, 65; letter to, 117; 
letter of Nicol to Ainslie, 144 ; letter 
to. 222 ; with Allan Masterton at 
Dumfries, iv. 50; epitaph upon, 241. 

Nielson. Rev. Mr, of Kirkbean, iii. 118. 

Nith, song on the, iii. 114. 

Niven. Rev. Dr, of Dunkeld. i. 133. 

, William, a companion of Burns 

at Kirkoswald, i. 33, 244, note, 290. 

Ochtertvre on the Tcith, Burns at, ii. 152. 

Ochtertyre. Strathearn, Burns enter- 
tained at, ii. 148 

Officer, military, quarrel of Burns with, 
at Dumfries, iv. 57. 

Old Rome Forest, Burns concealed at, 
i. 283. 

Oswald, Mrs, of Auchincruive, satire on, 
iii. 19. 

Oswald, Richard A., Esq. of Auchin- 
cruive, iv. 144 ; letter to, 153 ; song upon 
his wife, 155v 



Paine's Rights of Man, &c, anecdote of 

a copy of. iv. 45. 
Paisley, Burns at, ii. 100. 
Parker, Hugh epistle to, ii. 266. 

, W., Kilmarnock, i. 219, 279. 

Patron, an unknown, letter to, iii. 17. 
Pattison, Mr, of Kelvin (irove, rencon- 
tre of, with Burns, iv. 173. 
Pattison, Mr, of Paisley, letter to, ii. 

89; 100, 231. 
Peacock. Miss Mary (Mrs James Gray), 

ii. 209 ; letter to, iii. 268; 285. 
Peebles, Rev. William, i. 267; iii. 57- 
Penn, Matthew, solicitor, iv. 205, 209. 
Percy's Reliques of English poetry, 

iii. 172. 
Perry, Mr, of the Morning Chronicle, 

makes an offer to Burns, iv. 123. 
Phrenological view of Burns's head, 

iv. 307. 
Pickering, author of ' Donocht-Hcad,' 

iv. 99. 
Pindar, Peter, iii. 282, 284 ; iv. 27. 
Pitt. William, his opinion of Burns's 

poetry, iv. 153. 
Poet's Progress, the, fragment of, iii. 15. 
Poet, wretchedness of the, depicted by 

Burns, iv. 19. 
Political feelings of Burns, ii. 50, 293; 

iii. 87. 210; iv. 45, 57, 86. 
Portraits of Burns: Nasmyth's, ii. 42; 

Miers's, 168, 181 ; iv. 163. 
Posthumous child, verses on birth of, 

iii. 162; curious history of, 163, 205. 
Poverty of Burns overstated, iv. 124. 
Prentice, Archibald, of ' Manchester 

Tmtes,' ii. 13. 
Prentice, Mr, farmer at Covington 

Mains, entertains Burns, ii. 13. 
Psalms, verses of, quoted by Burns, 

iii. 47, 48. 
Punch-bowl, Burns's, iii. 191. 

Quecnsberry, Duke of, iii. 87, 129; iv. 171. 

Ramsay. Mr David, of Edinburgh Cou- 

rant, iii. 30. 
Ramsay, Mr John, of Ochtertyre, ii. 145, 

147; iii. 142. 
Rankine, John, a friend of Burns, i. 90 ; 

iv. 238. 
Religion, state of in west of Scotland in 

Burns's time, i. 121. 
Religious feelings and views of Burns, 

i. 122. 159; ii. 55, 190, 219; iii. 49, 63, 

93 ; iv. 65. 
Renton, Mr, of Lamerton, ii. 90. 
Renwtck, Mrs, of New York, iii. 9/. 
Revolution, French, Burns's sympathy 

with the, iii 210, 269 ; iv. 87. 
Richardson, Gabriel, epitaph on, iv. 245. 
Richmond, John, an early companion of 

Bums, i 143. 181 ; letters to, 226, 271, 

283 ; ii. 25, 104. 
Riddel, Captain, of Glenriddel, ii. 270, 

285 ; verses on returning him a news- 



GENERAL INDEX. 



335 



paper, iii. 18 ; letter to, 18 ; affair of ' the 
Whistle,' 67; 203; hia death, iv. 77; 
sonnet on, ibid. 

Riddel, Mrs R., letter to her sister, iv. 78. 

Riddel, Mr Walter, of Wooaley Park, 
iii 219 ; iv. 58 ; epigram upon, 108. 

Riddel, Mrs Walter, an irrtimate friend 
of Burns, iii. 218, 249 ; letters to, 258, 
259 ; impromptu on her birthday, 
iv. 48 ; lives solitarily at Woodley Park, 
55; letter to, 56; offended by Burns, 
58 ; letters to, 59, 60 ; lampoons on, 
61-64. 85 ; allusion to, 113 ; song upon, 
119, 121 ; song by, addressed to Burns, 
121 ; another song addressed to Burns. 
137 ; letter to, 18" 1 • last interview with, 
2u2; writes an obituary notice of Burns, 
213; plants laurels on liurns'sgrave,214. 

[Robertson], Captain, [of Lude], letter 
to, iv. 54. 

Robertson, Principal, ii. 25; iii. 186. 

Hocking, a social meeting, explained, 
i. 115. 

Rodger, Hugh, schoolmaster at Kirk- 
oswald, i. 33. 

Ronald, Misses, of Bennals, i. 46. 

, Mr, iii 86. 

— , William, his admiration of 
Burns's prayers, i. 160. 

Slose, Mrs, of Kilravock, ii. 130, 227; 
letter to, 228. 

Russell, Rev. John, i. 124, 268; iii. 56. 

Samson, Tarn, of Kilmarnock, i. 294. 

Sanquhar, Burns at, in. 19. 

Schetki, Mr, musician, ii. 206. 

Scolding, literary, iii. 188. 

Bcott, Mrs, Of Wauchop • House, ii. 37, 83. 

, sir Walter, meets Burns at Dr 

Ferguson's, ii. 64; in opposition to 

Burns in a public question, iv. 183. 
Peal cut for Burns, iii. 286. 
Selkirk, Burns at, ii. 84. 

, Earl of, iv. 15, 16, 142. 

Sharpe, Charles, of Hoddam, letter to, 

iii. 200 ; presents a mason's apron to 

Burns. 202. 
Shaw, Rev. Drs A. and D., i. 126. 
Shaw, Sir James, his benevolent exer- 
tions for Burns's family, iv. 306. 
Sheep's head, a dinner of, iv. 50. 
Shepherd, Rev. John, Muirkirk, iii. 58. 
Sillar, David, an early friend of the 

poet, i. 50, 6.5, 105, 155. 
Simpson, William, schoolmaster of 

Ochiltree, i. 128. 
Sinclair, sir John, letters to, iii. 2u2, 203. 
Skinner, He v. John, ii. 135, 140; letter 

to, 141 ; letter from, 142 ; letters to, 226 ; 

songs by, noticed, iv. 289, 290. 
Skirving, Mr, writes a song; anecdote of, 

iv. 286. 
Slave-trade, a poem of II. M. Williams, 

iii. 50. 
Sloan, Mi* Thomas, a companion of 

Burns, iii. 21, 192. 



Smellie, Alexander, anecdotes commu- 
nicated by, ii. 40 ; iv. 214. 

Smellie, William, Burns's poems printed 
by. ii. 40; verses on, 41 ; letter to, iii. 
220 ; 24tf. 

Smith, Elizabeth, a servant of Burns, 
ii. 298; iii. 59,72. 

Smith, James, an early friend of Burns, 
i. 170; epistle to, 182; letters to, 284; 
ii. 96, 101, 255. 

Smith, Rev. George, i. 266. 

Smuggling vessel, affair of a, iii. 223. 

Snow-storm, an extraordinary, iv. 138. 

Songs, Scotch, usually sung too slow, 
iv. 20. 

' Spunkie ' — apostrophe to, iii. 306. 

Staig, Miss Janet, song upon, iii. 251; 
epigram upon, iv. 95. 

Star (newspaper), the, Burns writes a 
letter to, ii. 293; corresponds with, 
iii. 61. 

Steven, Rev. William, i. 292. 

Stewart, Mrs, of Stair, i. 108; letter to, 
298; 311 : ii. 290; iii. 246. 

Stewart, Willie, epigram, iv. 243. 

, Polly, a heroine of Burns, iv. 72. 

, Professor Dugald, i. 304, 319; 

ii. 59 ; his account of Burns in Edin- 
burgh, 63; letters to, 257 ; iii- 14. 

Stewart, Rev. Mr, of Luss, iii. 142. 

Stirling, Burns writes disloyal lines at, 
ii. 120; second visit to, 146. 

St Mary's Is'e, Burns at, iv. 15 ; 142. 

Stobie, Mr, does duty for Burns, iv. 191. 

Stock and horn, a Scottish musical in- 
strument described, iv. 119. 

Stonehaven, Burns at, ii 135. 

Strang's ' Germany in 1830' quoted, iv. 53. 

Suathallan, Viscount, his ' Lament,' 
ii. 214. 

Strephon and Lydia, anecdote of, iv. 287. 

Stuart, Mr Daniel, iii. 61, 121. 

Peter, letter to, ii. 45 ; iii. 37 ; 



noticed, 40 ; letter from, 61 ; letter to, 
62 ; versified epistle to. 121. 

Stuart, Prince Charges, his birthday cele- 
brated by Burns, ii. 25; 139. 

Sutherland, Mr, a player, iii. 102; pro- 
logue for, 107 ; 256. 

Sword-cane, story of a, iv. 158. 

Syme, John, Et-q., a friend of Burns iii. 
266; excursion with Burns in Gallo- 
way, iv. 14 ; 32 ; 60 ; 144 ; letter to, 154 ; 
account of in 1826, 156; exertions for 
Burns's family, 223. 

Tait, Crawford, Esq., letter to, iii. 149. 

, Mr, of llarvicston, ii. 118. 

Tam o' Shanter, iii. 152. 

Taylor, Dr John, of Paisley, ii. 100. 

, John, Wanloekhead, iii. 20. 

— , of Norwich, his work on Ori unal 

Sin, i. 122, 343. 
Tennant, Mr James, of Glcnconner, 

ii. 2.52 ; letter to, 302 ; versilied epistle 

to, iii. 43. 



336 



LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 



Tennant, Mr, of Ayr, his recollections of 
Burns, i. 20. 

Thomson, Mr George, of Edinburgh, 
collection of Scottish Melodies pro- 
jected by, iii. 232 ; letter to Burns, 232 ; 
Burns's letters to. 233, 251, 253, 254, 
263, 264, 279, 283, 287, 290, 291, 294, 297, 
303, 304, 308, 309, 312, sends a present 
of money to Burns, 312 ; letters to, 314 ; 
iv. 21 Ms, 23, 24, 25, 27, 29, 3», 33, 35, 
39, 41, 43, 46, 51, 80, 85, 90, 92, 93, 97, 
110, 115, 126. 133, 138, 139, 158, 162 bis ; 
Mr T. attempts to remunerate Burns, 
164 ; letters to, 165 bis, 167, 188 ; sends 
Allan's etchings to Burns, 189; letters 
to, 192, 193, 201; Burns asks assistance 
from, 205 ; sends L.5 to Burns, 207 ; his 
assistance to Currie's edition of Burns, 
225; his Melodies. 227, note; letter of 
Gilbert Burns to, 227. 

Thomson, Peggy, an early flame of Burns, 
i. 32, 36, 74. 

Thomson, the poet, temple to, iii. 193 ; 
address to the shade of, 194 ; quoted, 
273. 

Thrush, sonnet on hearing one sing, 
iii. 281. 

Tinnock, Nanse, alewife in Mauchline, 
i. 169. 

' Toast for the 12th of April,' iv. 152. 

Toothache, Burns afflicted by, and his 
address to, iii. 46. 

Torbolton, Bachelors' Club of, i. 49. 

, Freemasons' Lodge of, i. 94 ; 

farewell to, 277; books of, 278; account 
of, 342. 

Train, Joseph, anecdote commuiiicated 
by, iii. 84 ; 225 ; iv. 17. 

Traquair, Burns at, ii. 88. 

Troggin— ' Wha '11 buy troggin ? '—a bal- 
lad, iv. 196. 

Turit, Loch, Burns visits, ii. 150. 

Turnbull, Gavin, songs by, iv. 46-48. 

Turner, Andrew, epigram upon, iv. 243. 

Tytler, Alexander Fraser, letter from, 
iii. 181 ; letter to, 183. 

Tytler, Balloon, iv. 284. 



Tytler, Mr William, of Woodhouselee, 
ii. 168 ; iii. 282 ; iv. 283. 

' Yision, a.' a song, iv. 69. 

Vision, the, a poem, i. 187; additional 

stanzas of,. i^32. 311. 
Volunteers, Dumfries, iv. 150. 

Walker, Professor, ii. 59, 124 ; letter to, 

128 ; iv. 176. 
Walks, favourite, of Burns at Dumfries, 

iv. 25. 
■ Wallace,' Blind Harry's, quoted, iii. 63. 

, Mr, writer in Dumfries, iv. 67. 

Wanlockhead, Kurns at, iii. 20. 
Washington, General, Burns proposes 

celebrating his birthday, iv. 83. 
Wauchope House, ii. 38 ; Burns's letter 

to wife of, ii. 38. 
Whelpdale, Mr, husband of Jean Lori- 

mer, iv. 103. 
' Whistle, the,' affair of, and poem so 

called, iii. 67, 68. 
Whitefoord, Sir John, i. 156; ii. 28; 

letter to, 172 ; Lines sent to, iii. 178. 
Williams, Helen Maria, ii. 32, 43; letter 

to, iii. 50 ; answer from, 53. 
Williamson, an actor, iv. 61. 

, Mr David, clothier, iv. 205. 

, Rev. David, hero of ' Dainty 

Davie,' iv. 29. 
Willie, Holy, i. 135, 170 ; iv. 58. 
Wilson, Hugh, a herd-boy, i. 66. 

. John (Dr Hornbook), i. 109. 

, John, printer at Kilmarnock, 

i. 257, 349 ; iv. 236. 
Wilson, Mrs David, innkeeper at Roslin, 

verses on, ii. 43. 
Wood, Alexander, surgeon, ii. 184, 204. 
Woodlev, Maria, see ' Riddel, Mrt 

Waller.' 
Woodlev Park, iii. 219. 
Woods, Joseph, the player, ii. 69. 
Wordsworth, William, remark by, iv. 

218. Writes a pamphlet on Burns, 231. 

1 Yarrow Visited,' quotation from, ii. 85, 



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